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In recipes, spells, odes and elegies, To Wildness conjures what has been lost and what remains. These are poems of the body. They rub up against one another and knock elbows. "Plum Jam" calls preserving fruit as spiritual labor: "To be elbow deep in a barrel/arms gloved crimson." In this collection, the dead reside alongside the living. Ancestors roost in trees, having forgotten language, their coats inside out. Others sulk in the eaves, their "ears clogged with clover." The past made vivid renders an extravagant present and offers a balm to the isolation of the contemporary world.
In recipes, spells, odes and elegies, To Wildness conjures what has been lost and what remains. These are poems of the body. They rub up against one another and knock elbows. "Plum Jam" calls preserving fruit as spiritual labor: "To be elbow deep in a barrel/arms gloved crimson." In this collection, the dead reside alongside the living. Ancestors roost in trees, having forgotten language, their coats inside out. Others sulk in the eaves, their "ears clogged with clover." The past made vivid renders an extravagant present and offers a balm to the isolation of the contemporary world.