The chairs have come in and the crisp yellow thwock of the ball
being hit says somehow, now that it's fall, I'm a memory of myself.
My whole old life--I mourn you sometimes in places you would have
been.""" ""--October" The poems in this fierce debut are an attempt
to record what matters. As a reporter's dispatches, they concern
themselves with different forms of desolation: what it means to
feel at home in wrecked places and then to experience loneliness
and dislocation in the familiar. The collection arcs between
internal and external worlds--the disappointment of returning, the
guilt and thrill of departure, unexpected encounters in blighted
places-- and, with ruthless observations etched in the sparest
lines, the poems in "Wideawake Field "sharply and movingly navigate
the poles of home and away.
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