good meat, dani couture

There are some fabulous lines in this book, a concept book, built around, you got it, meat. Some of the poems offer up some remarkable turns. In “migration,” for instance:

tearing into sunday dinner
we pull apart the origin
of flight, make two wishes
on pneumatic anatomy.

or in “the fisherman’s dream before surgery,”

the surgeon holds a bone-handled filet knife,
sharpens the blade on a choice cut of stone…

or “split”

forehead flayed open
quickly, like the belly
of a fish all bone and egg-
shell in tact…
the bottom of any pool
of water…

Short and sweet book. Enjoyable. Absolutely. One of a handful of high concept books I’ve noticed this year, and which I continue to mull over the overall affect of… This is a larger question about poetry books in general, not just this one in particular, but I can’t help but wonder where this (and several others I have encountered of late) could have gone had there been more time, more perspective, more layers of inquiry. Thinking of Rob Winger’s Muybridge’s Horse, or Steven Price’s Anatomy of Keys...and thinking again, let the work build.

How long are folks spending on the average first book I wonder? Isn’t there a connection between a text’s longevity and its gestation?

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