From Alexus Erin, an American writer who recently transplanted to the UK, comes the beautiful, sad, and strangely familiar poems of Two Birds, All Moon. This chapbook of beautiful and poignant lyrics is punctuated, at turns, by gorgeous imagery, melancholic affect, and pun-filled humour, leaving no dull moments. Each poem is carefully crafted to draw the reader into the night sky, the streetlamps, the clock’s face, the floorplan, the streetcar. Reading Erin, you’re drawn right into the poem, and the poems don’t let you out until they’re done.
This chapbook is printed on white paper with a white cardstock cover (designed and typeset by Dani Spinosa).
Crawling Toward Collina d’Oro
I return to a cold, full-sized bed, at the helm of the stairs—
there is grace, in a pink nightshirt
with wet hair. It is grace, smelling like gin, saying he will miss me
when I go. I am going up the big hill. I thought I would
be carried out in valley rush light,
dead or sleeping, hissing
successive, heavy-lidded bullshit to no one at all
sermonic: my word as some unfortunate law
claiming the blackberry bramble, the African spear, the hospital corners, the dolls from Iran
I have been
asleep for six or seven days now
rather, very still
on the carpet, catching up.