Bosk

The short poems in Bosk grow out of close encounters with trees, shrubs, and understory plants observed throughout a sprawling Boston arboretum built on glacial drumlins, with valleys and meadows threading between them. These poems emerged from slow, aimless wandering-moments when a shape, texture, or pattern tugged at the senses and asked to be noticed. From those encounters came a series of questions: How does careful attention to nonhuman beings both distort and sharpen our perception? How might deep observation rekindle our connection to place, easing us out of apathy? And can brief poems spark a kind of phenomenological inquiry-playful, probing, and alive to the porous membrane between the self and the wider world?

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