A genuinely toned prayer to the place where kindness and care or some unpolitical ethic begins. “Caduceus and pen” as lovers in the poets hands. I can feel words and love cellularly in the heart’s mind’s eye. “Your uncut heart pen-scratch”—Awe the “onomatopoeia of ah.” In a brick crumbling on the women’s baths revealing crystals in the water. It’s like this writer is talking through life and Gaia cycles—slow enough to see she is both enlightened as well as dense. Or a lily drilling by drip in a clear room. Something about exploring the genders of non specific beings through casted hues of light as thought. Vibrating the allowance. Why not have your lover as specter? What better way to ensure no ending—no time will be cut short.
Archangel and the Overlooked reaches into the dusky recesses, praising what cannot be named. Singing the unheard, unsung, unseen, where the invisible divine resides: "no one hears the tick tick tick/muffled in her nightcloud pocket." What does it mean to feel a nothing? Warren listens into lacuna, strokes the vibrant tissue interconnecting this realm to the next: "the canopy of my body rustles/in the wind from between each molecule." All cells afloat, weaving. All crepuscules, all corpuscles tingle, alive with vivid hesitation. This creation arises out of a myriad lifetimes: "Out of the sea/of drowned namesakes/ where the last star is pitched/ rises the shimmering coral/ of make."
Lindsey Warren was born in Elsmere, Delaware. She recently received her M.F.A. from Cornell University. She has been the recipient of a DDOA Individual Artist Fellowship and was a finalist for the Joy Harjo Prize. She has been published in Rabid Oak, Josephine Quarterly, American Literary Review and Hobart, among others, and her long poem “Incantation” was on display as part of an exhibit at the Biggs Museum of American Art. She splits her time between Ithaca, New York and Newark, Delaware.