Triptych

Triptych disrupts conventions of book authorship. Between two covers are three books, The Three-Legged World by Peter Grandbois, In Time by James McCorkle, and Orpheus & Echo by Robert Miltner. Of course, books converse with other books, and poetry, rippling from unmeasured sound into rampant forms, is especially polyphonic. Etruscan brings these three books together because they exerted upon our editors a gravitational pull, causing the shadow of one to fall across the reading of another. Sufficient on their own, these books achieve new altitudes when aligned. Triptych launches no school. It backs no cause. What these books share is not easily labeled. None follows narrative conventions. None dwells on confession. None abides predictable meter. None is easily parsed. Each climbs eerie heights where ego finds no purchase. Each takes a kaleidoscopic view of selfhood. Each takes flight toward apotheosis. Each blesses the moments "Before we turn into air," or give way to "tongue of trees, language of clouds," and before "Gods and dogs begin their talking back," before birds "are falling through their late bodies." In Miltner's ogham-deep caesuras, in McCorkle's speech-song, and in Grandbois's cadences which whisper like ghostly passersby, "sound is emanation," and emanation asks, "what would this line be without the words?"