Audrey Poetker's new poetry is about "what the heart imagines," about times of "burning, shining faith" and moments when "the train disappear[s] and/[your] heart [does] not even yearn." These poems are about the power of love to invent and destroy, love as "a place to begin from" and love that lets you forget until "there is not even a whisper of your past that follows you into the streets."
These poems are also about the body's emptiness and betrayals, the sorrow of childlessness so deep it enters a place where imagination, dreams, and stories invent the children that elude conception. And always, there is the knowledge that "half the world is dark/and nothing can be changed/by wishing it."
Making strange to yourself beats with a great, raw desire to know and experience; the poems "rage with truth," refusing to repent of falling from grace; they sing their steadfast faith in the body, love and desire greater than any religion; they chant their incantations, moving us to deeper sorrow, and greater longing and imagination.
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