Zoom

$17.00

By Susan Lewis

Winner of 2017 The Washington Prize

Prose poems jump with the anxious richness of our age, spiraling from the public to the private in a quest to understand what our species has been up to. “This is absolutely one of the wildest, most tender, most sacred collections of poems in our world today. Susan Lewis creates a stunning vision that opens up our weary weeping minds to heal.”—Maureen Seaton

About Susan Lewis

Susan Lewis is the author of Heisenberg’s Salon, This Visit, and How to be Another, as well as many chapbooks, including Commodity Fetishism, winner of the 2009 Červená Barva Press Chapbook Award. Her work has been published in Boston Review, The Journal, Raritan, Seneca Review, Verse Daily, and many other journals and anthologies. She lives in New York City and is the editor and publisher of Posit.

Praise for Zoom

These poems should be patented for their outrageous velocity, their skin-tight turns and re-turns, their windows into a mind sharp with fever. They should not be sequestered in a tower, not hidden in a velvet box with jewelry and baby teeth. They should not be eaten whole. If eaten whole, they should be accompanied by oboes. This is absolutely one of the wildest, most tender, most sacred collections of poems in our world today. From all and every point of view, Susan Lewis creates a stunning vision that opens up our weary weeping minds to heal.
—Maureen Seaton, author of Fibonacci Batman and Tit with Blue Guitar

The way this book deploys the English language to reveal the music of deeper meaning is simply gorgeous. “In praise of miscommunication and her co-star, depending. Trying not to stare at the posterior pronation of their disregard.” Reading, I was thinking of G. Hill’s early prose poems, their rhetorical marvels. And, of GC Waldrep’s prose poems. How beautifully the emotional registers find their way into the speech of the prose poem-format: “The enemy grinning in your prismatic heart. Fingering the molecular furnace. Hot & bothered. Throbbing towards correspondence, the irrepressible hope of fit.”
—Ilya Kaminsky, author of Dancing in Odessa and Musica Humana

Zoom is a post-perspectival report on current conditions, written from the spot where the Anthropocene meets the obscene. It’s a bleak, funny litany of non-viable positions – ground zero crumbling beneath flying feet. There are so many good sentences here I’m tempted to quote them: “Underestimate the risk or die trying.”
—Rae Armantrout, author of Partly: New and Selected Poems and Entanglements

 

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