High Lonesome
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"High Lonesome is a radio left on in a candlelit room, playing softly into the shadows as the hours fall through the evening. Interruptions of static, a slow confetti of grief drifting into the corners, mysterious white noise dispatches. Here is a meditation on estrangement--from an other, from the world, from the self--and its long aftermath spent learning how to cultivate tenderness and devotion in a world 'where nobody / is tender enough,' a practice that alternates between sorrow and transcendence. These poems are little ceremonies of attention to a variety of lonelinesses, both human and ...
"High Lonesome is a radio left on in a candlelit room, playing softly into the shadows as the hours fall through the evening. Interruptions of static, a slow confetti of grief drifting into the corners, mysterious white noise dispatches. Here is a meditation on estrangement--from an other, from the world, from the self--and its long aftermath spent learning how to cultivate tenderness and devotion in a world 'where nobody / is tender enough,' a practice that alternates between sorrow and transcendence. These poems are little ceremonies of attention to a variety of lonelinesses, both human and non-human. Strange, lyrical and funny, the third collection of poems by Allison Titus simultaneously reckons with and marvels at 'the luminously borrowed / experiment that living is' in a world that feels terrible and hopeful, beautiful and precarious"--Publisher's websit
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