Phoenixbirds - Jane Dickerson

In her second collection of poetry, Phoenixbirds, Jane Dickerson shows how to live with the heartache that is the world. She observes the toll of climate crisis in poems like Urban Pond, where the shore of her beloved Lake Langton is drying to well below/the cattails water line. In others she celebrates the mysteries of birds. She knows the Deaf world through years of socializing and working with the Deaf and in caring for a vulnerable autistic Deaf daughter. In Harry Runner & the Horse, a sly tribute to adoption, she concludes she is partial to water rather than the thick blood of inheritance, even though love and pride in her family's West Virginia roots runs deep. In all the poems in this collection, the reader will find a writer who is sensitive and sensible to all that passes before her eyes. Praise for Phoenixbirds: Delicately aware of the world seen and unseen, heard and unheard, the poems in Jane Dickerson's Phoenixbirds allow for simultaneous loss and transcendence. From the mechanics of an egret's flight to the image of the necks of long-necked swans, these poems, made of gorgeous sentences and well-cut lines, privy a world I want to inhabit. This is a book to experience again and again. -Sally Keith, author of Two of Everything In this closely observed, thoughtfully orchestrated collection, Jane Dickerson explores the paradoxes of a life lived attentively: the steadying power of ephemeral nature, the sometimes baffling histories of families we love, the wound of raising a disabled child, and indeed, the woundedness of life itself. These are brave poems, shaped by the author's conviction that It's a luxury to write/about a bird, any bird, when / the world is full of anguish. -James Silas Rogers, author of The Collector of Shadows These poems grapple with how to weather grief, grief over the loss of friends, family, species, habitat. A profusion of birds and flowers remind us of the necessity of joy. Jane Dickerson also reminds us to listen when we can't see and to see when we can't hear. -Athena Kildegaard, author of Midden It's a luxury to write/about a bird, any bird, when/the world is full of anguish. So writes Jane Dickerson in Robin's Egg Blue. The homey robin parenting its nestlings in a sturdy, yet complex nest sits in stark contrast to the phoenix bird of the collection's title. After its long life, the phoenix goes out in a blaze of glory then rebirths itself from its own ashes. Yet both poems lead us to rebirth and a futur