Pub date: September 24, 2013
This new collection by Lynn Davies, her first in eight years, abounds in departures: words and communities die, trout-lilies and passengers vanish, even the King and Queen of Fairies disappear.
In poem after poem, Davies’s powerful imagination blends observation and fancy, passion and playfulness, producing strikingly fresh metaphors. Squirrels paddle away on twig-rafts; giant horses take to the sky. Some poems give simple weight to the details of everyday life; others evoke an imaginative world inhabited by giant beavers, elf-thugs,and the great caw-dragon.
Throughout this magnificently fresh collection, the ocean, the rain, and the river suggest something big on the move in our lives even when we feel stranded. Displaying a dexterity of tone and an understated bravura, she writes of the extremities of losing and then awakening, honouring gratitude with “as many words as new leaves.”
"The voice in Lynn Davies’ stunning new collection exudes a sense of someone speaking from the beyond, from a place where 'time as I once knew it was gone;' yet Davies’ poetic voice is far from distanced or aloof; rather, it is witty, wise, and often funny. The 'field crackling with sound' that she portrays in “Winding Down” could well describe this entire collection — a gorgeous lyric tour deforce." — Jeanette Lynes, author of Archive of the Undressed
That Summer the Far Field
That summer the far field grew wild,
the daisies a freshet through forty shades
of green and the wind’s wake. Delphiniums
I said stand up on your own. The borage
rambled out of the garden, over the walkway,
and into the house where we loved
for the last time repeatedly, the rooms
filling up with smoke until the wind
died. I didn’t know how to sleep
cradled in thunder and lightning,
had never heard the languages
that fill our skies at night.