Izzy Roberts-Orr



Jennifer Compton Reviews Peter Boyle and Izzy Roberts-Orr

First, I salute Vagabond Press – its progenitors, its long-time toilers in the vineyard of poetry, its patrons, its cheer squad, and those who work in the shadows. Any small press, surely, is a hub of more-or-less willing volunteers. It is very expensive, in all sorts of ways, to make a book. Count the cost. But year after year after year, since 1999, Vagabond Press has been turning aside from the multifarious, ever-present griefs of the world, and privileging poetry.

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Grey-eyes

The women with the sad eyes are usually the sexiest. New moons rolling around in their heads. Big dumb pools you can dive into. The moon doesn’t speak much, so you can project your longings onto her. Try picking her …

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imbibed aubade

stepping out with all the serenity of an electric-ended possum pelt, standing in the shock of sun coat coursing with energy, eyes turned to the pale face of morning. I look the day’s debut up and down slide my snout …

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Selkie (after Izzy Roberts-Orr)

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Selkie

You take me to see the seals spinning sleek and fast like windchimes. Tell me the myth of the selkie, the women who pour out of the sea like molten lava. Dragging their skins behind them, staying on shore only …

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Haul.

I have been trying to mine you, but you are not a quarry. You tell me there is nothing in you but coal seams beneath the surface that might burn for millions of years if lit. Throw away the halogens …

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