The experience of reading Lee Young-ju’s collection is to find oneself suspended in an unfamiliar zone, and the disorientation is pleasurable.
Jane Wong’s new poetry collection suggests that historical trauma does not evaporate between generations—its traces leak into the bones of the children, and even of the grandchildren . . . A triumph of formal ingenuity.
In the collection, language, like nature, is elemental—a way of speaking and being in the world . . . Riley’s inventiveness is an invitation to notice language’s connection to the natural world.
Sandra Lim is a poet whose straightforward yet daring intelligence demands a reader keep up. The poems in her third book evoke a mind constantly examining itself and the world it occupies.
Cerpa navigates the helplessness of trying to express what is inexpressible amid the cruel accrual of despair.
Divya Victor’s new collection is a moving critique of the South Asian immigrant experience within post 9/11 America.
Almontaser’s collection espouses neither sentimental nostalgia nor doomed isolation . . . these poems are poignant and melancholic, sometimes tragic, sometimes hilarious, and always filled with beauty.
Natalie Shapero is an incisive social critic cutting through the smog of self-absorption and contradictions between what is said and done.
In poems that tenderly call us to action, Mattawa awakens readers to the human and geographical devastation wrought by the tendency to “other” people. Fugitive Atlas is a collaborative prayer for a shattered earth.
Heid E. Erdrich’s new collection is more than a healing of past wounds. Rather, it is remarkable precisely because it posits the act of speaking as liberatory practice, a difficult action that will project us into a different and less abusive future together.