The ""red list"" of Stephen Cushman's new volume of poetry is the
endangered species register, and the book begins and ends with the
bald eagle, a bird that bounded back from the verge of extinction.
The volume marks the inevitability of such changes, from danger to
safety, from certainty to uncertainty, from joy to sadness and back
again. In a single poem that advances through wordplay and
association, Cushman meditates on subjects as vast as the earth's
fragile ecosystem and as small as the poet's own deflated fantasy
of self-importance: ""There aren't any jobs for more Jeremiahs.""
Simultaneously teasing the present and eulogizing what has been
lost, Cushman speaks like a Shakespearean jester, freely and
foolishly, but with penetrating insight.
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