dirt bird
A chapbook of poems from Alexandria Quarterly Press
“With keen awareness to the thresholds of sound and silence, Autumn McClintock blurs the human and natural worlds in this remarkable collection… The formal measure of these poems illuminates the creative act, becoming a seed ripe with possibility: “one long wave of movement” that lifts the sparrow out of ubiquity and guides us, the reader, into seeing the world anew.”
“Dirt Bird hops between petty dread and longing, between speech and silence (“Do you even own a throat?”), mishearings and mistranslations, between bird and girl—“you turn/ turn away from, then toward/ then toward and bird and blurred.” It’s a beautiful book, filled with the smallest commonest wildnesses… McClintock explores many forms (haiku, tanka, chōka) grounding each in brambles, in ugliness, in storms, twining language and nature, an ecopoetics, a phenomenal phenomenology.”
After the creek
“You are a forest now, Autumn McClintock writes, tangled beyond untangling. But don’t worry, dear reader, there’s no better guide to bring you through this tangled terrain than McClintock. She’ll show you a landscape of hands that speak, wine in the wrong cups, and butterflies that are impossibly white on leafs of lettuce. This is a terrific collection...”
A chapbook of poems