The Atlantic House

Poetry. Everything that stands firm in THE ATLANTIC HOUSE is surrounded by loss, waste, and wreckage. Reading these vulnerable, resistant poems, one thinks of Otto Neurath’s image of a ship that must be rebuilt on the open sea, and of Eliot’s ‘fragments I have shored against my ruins, ’ except that it is more than fragments that Good means–dares–to salvage.–Franklin Bruno

These poems by Regan Good leave one astounded that there can be such lyrical concentration, even as each line produces an effect of wildness. They take the reader over by a force that is sheering–pure exploit of the seemingly impossible, as though one just returned from a trip to Venus. Good examines the various tangents that we have come to know as the nature/social construct, simultaneously scrutinizing the elements of the self, both inside and outside of this nutzoid framework. Yet the self in these poems is entirely genuine and rarely ever redundant. Read this book, and feel lucky that you can.–Brian Young

Good’s poems weave a dense, searing, beautiful music, their rounded (and rounding) cadences offset by spiky intrusions of the mind needling along the surface-seams of dread and memory. Their yearning compels the reader through a spiraling interior bower that is haunted and complicated by essential loneliness.–Emily Wilson