Revising the Storm by Geffrey Davis

At any point while I am reading (always in my home these days) there is most certainly a basket of clean laundry within reach waiting to be folded and put away, a cup of coffee going cold, an old water cup nobody will claim and take care of, and classical music rasping from the old radio, a sound that has been the backdrop of my life for as long as I can remember and is now the backdrop to my children’s lives.

Revising the Storm by Geffrey Davis is a study in what bruises we bring to love. A study in how we stumble forward trying to gain our footing, sometimes falling all the same, but always, it seems, with a nearby hand outstretched, helping us to our feet. This book is a study in grace and tenderness, grown in the shadow of pain and grief—for where else can grace and tenderness grow?

It is an honor to be invited into the intimacy of these poems.

Bonfire Opera by Danusha Laméris

The first time I read Bonfire Opera by Danusha Laméris, my house was, for the first time in months, blissfully silent. My husband had taken the children on a bike ride, to donuts. It was not yet 8 am and the dog, cat, and I sat on the couch and I read the book cover to cover, pausing only 3 times. Twice to cry, once to refill my coffee. My pets were audience to the lines I couldn’t help but read aloud. The sunlight and the silence and the animals nearby created a perfect atmosphere for reading these poems (the only detractor was a distant weed-whacker, and even that brought contrast to the poems).

When I decided to read it again, I knew I needed to make it another beautiful moment. Aside from finding myself valuing these moments during a pandemic and worldwide pain, this is a book that deserves intention in its reading—though I believe that about most books. It doesn’t need intention or a beautiful moment (it would be incredible even read in a dirty bathroom stall at the world’s worse airport), but it deserves the reader’s intention, slowness, focus. I read this book for a second time on a 107 degree day, bright California light casting across my kitchen table, a cold cider at hand, a bowl of passion fruit picked from the vine outback nearby, watching my own garden wither in the heat while reading of Danusha’s lush garden, loss, grief, desire, and that bigheartedness that great poets bring to the page, to their readers, to the world. These are poems not just about seeing the world beautifully, but living beautifully in the world.

Below are two poems which stuck with me after both readings. Though, if I am being honest, this whole book is with me lately. Read it for yourself, let me know what you think.