Sent to me by the publisher.
I am looking at a stack of six Jennifer Moxley books and wondering how they all accumulated so quickly. I am sure I bought each of them on different occasions, yet I only bought the first one five or six years ago.
Suddenly, there was a stack.
It's a nice stack. Books of different colors, different widths, from different presses. Lots of variation. The same could be said of the poems, which is one reason I like them.
from Often Capital
from Enlightenment Evidence
open field, the privilege to limp across desire
no simple anchorage works when exile is a state of
time past, the wasterly girlhood can call me from your
ways entreating lover and I shall pettily dream as
Rosa limped without a country your solution-less must be
my homeland now since eyeward I befall the open field