I feel ready to explain: the clipped mountains keep snarling at me each time I try to atone. Now it’s just me and the pebble I’ve kicked for two blocks. Coal thoughts are captured worries, caused by a fear of one’s tap water. If this city is built on coal, then soon this town will be all diamonds. I’m practicing my skills at cooling down. I try to be more longhaired about his choices.Īnd wanted some space from my reflection,īut my face sat plastered on the windowpaneĪhead of me, hovered above the landscape,Īll the way to Virginia, even after nightfall, The cicadas present just loafed on the bench “Just so, just to, just when”-these surprising poems make their way, finding comfort in the details, and taking us, tenderly, along.
“Tonight is wonderful, / considering,” writes Sadie Shorr-Parks in her unmistakably angular way, and the cicada, with its improbable, extravagant life, serves as an apt companion. A stunning debut collection from a poet with deep sensibility and unending grace. Sadie Shorr-Parks’ work yearns toward one sustaining and reckoning question: what does the natural world teach us about our bodies, about the affective dimensions of our beautiful, terrible human-ness? Honey Month is a book of unrelenting desire, each poem a tributary leading us out to a vastness beyond language. when the black lake croaks, / and the white blooms unencrypt, / and I ask only to be uncovered …” ~John Wall Barger, author of Resurrection Fail I love how Shorr-Parks’ (Anne Sexton-esque) wry stance cracks into self-doubt and a reverie she submits to fully: speaking-singing!-out of the dream. Honey Month is the book you read on a bleak day to wake up your incandescent inner world.
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