Earth

Playlist by The Song Cave

With patience and precision, Hannah Brooks-Motl's third collec­tion of poems, Earth, explores the grand themes of love, family, economy, and home with the skill of a true craftsman. As the measured compositions of these poems shift, so do their near-sculptural forms, and a feeling both classical and contem­porary develops as a result. At times a paean to poetry, other times a critique of it, Earth is a breakthrough collection by a poet whose ceaselessly sharp intellect continues to use poetry to gain insight into not only her own wants and needs, but ours, and those of poetry itself.

Earth

By Hannah Brooks-Motl

Nothing radical about that technologyNobody touches this eraCould u fnd a homeKnow my brotherWho has a mind tooHas a portion

Going

By Hannah Brooks-Motl

We were onthe Taconic Parkwaygoing souththrough where Bard isor not that farnot evento Poughkeepsiewhere Vassar isnot to whereit got widergoing throughthe nettlesgrasses and beechthe somethingkilling pinefor 45 minutesthen only 20 moremiles pastthe cheap houseon pretty hills

blue mountainsbeyondthe slicing road.In Dutchess countyI considered my life.Ownershipwas impossible!Enchantmentbent awayfrom the worm.Law traveledthrough gorges,the ravines.All wealthdisappearedbut into whichpocket? Two cabinsaround a stumptrying for amoral vocabulary.An equivalentof mind

emptied by applepicking, plot.It was goodin the dirtthough we didn’tjudgethe dirt.There wasa hawkup there.A womanin a truckjust heroic.There’s some turtlein the road. Birdsfat birds.Years aloftin the mirage.A denser richerinside ora tangleddark bush.

Froth, then production.Downfall to ownand to notsaid the travelerfrom the edgeof the country.Perfectly watchful,a little bitchy.His porchwhere history diesin a mouthwon’t producea singing people.One situation arrived.An asbestos barnarrived, tendervehicle.A black paintedawning, this injurysomehow relatedto college.

Ability was bringingthese typestogether and putting deathat the bottom.Or walking throughone of those hangingbead walls.A million tatteredripped chairs.A sad faceand a smiley face.Apprentices instructingeach otherin mimesis.The visible beingone elementof its sentence,nature plantedroot vegetablesperformed lifefrom memory.

Fed our moleculesto the vaultthen history tookthat mixture.I wrote to youfrom the commoncrawling upto an income.You repliedthat techniquecontainedplenty, caughtthe taxias it disappearedfrom language.And this collectiblespoonfrom the formerdemocracies;and that toddlerarranged fetchinglyaround the drip

candles.I’m reallybriefpassing through.Of by itself—A drying rack.A canoe no a kayak.Jutting away towardthe housein Dutchess countyI heardyour coughfrom the outsideleavinga taskunaccomplished.

Capitol

By Hannah Brooks-Motl

Magic circle of horses                    + magic funicular.               heaps of stuff being sold.               freedom to trace this petty action.where do we                go now?floated up there along you                               abandoning youwho was able                  for better floating, our living                  + one mother’s voice,            magic little river.                  heaps of stuff being sold.                                     the ones who seemed like dicks like Michelangelo                  or just “consummate artists”—                  vegetables                out                  on the ground.dogs chilling in their roundabouts.                  so it was coming                      from the corn                                    the sun prairies    to the maze    /   to the faceswithout haloes      .the wing yellow into white                  + yellow mint.motif of garden or pocketwhile the fog rolls in nomagic from the bunker                                                                         or what’s coming but magic

                         said she                         to be aliveat all. the earthplunged in                into rooms.while they worked in shops,               made something we would call clog or carvedmessages to outer space

                                      upon boxes of varying dimensions.                                      involved their bodies and bodiesof children               in apparatusesfor days or weeks or years.+ from obscure movements                                  sent out trinkets,               clothing, God.               when he died everyone paused               to take a little stock,                                  his brief remarks were read aloud.               energetically the dark converseslike magic thecasino.                   carousel + emptypyramid.              metal barricades, old country baroque              music + lithium.              long walk for food.

 

                          “the future is hidden.” (Kropotkin)                          as one retires to her quarters          the narrative gathers power                          + people remain.                           meanderthrough blood.          deciding between                  the social goods. “meaning and confusion                              are both beautiful.” (Goodman)                               + late at night or the mean cashierold markets                       where a general idea of many                became sick                                   unto the reality of one.                                   the turquoise tarp

housing some pigeons.                  that property                          of the baron’s,                                    still there on the moon.