some blue, a little spur

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The poems in Kris Falcon's some blue, a little spur function like a map of dark watercolors, where the speaker is building a way through a space-time collage. "You say there is nothing there. I see a lake...// I see how I am to depart." The pathfinding work of Falcon is grounded in logic, and the surreal nature of reality holds the reader in shared experience, for instance of being in lockdown, "We are stepping out after 36 weeks of showering / at sundown." Falcon carries us across a landscape where, "Any piece of fabric can look like / a body after a storm" and asks that we accept the lack of certainty, the fact that "Nobody understands you and your map / shaped like an infected tree." This collection holds both our felt experience of not having the answers, and requires our acknowledgement of how that "muscles what heals." - Amelia Martens, author of The Spoons in the Grass are There to Dig a Moat