In Boisvert’s world, horses sprout from seeds and fawns fall out of the sky. And a whole day may pass where all we do is take turns holding brightly-colored babies swaddled in white towels. But inside that day is the quiet reminder that not all our children survive. Though sometimes as a minotaur and sometimes as a tree, the speaker in these poems moves through surreal plots and landscapes which, when read together, create a touching and singular story of childhood and parenthood, and of transformation through loss.
New, unpublished poems and excerpts from projects like COYOTES, MARRIAGES, and SALT WATER. Read early drafts and revisions here.
EXCERPTS FROM F
“While the helix of heredity coils between the pages, there is always a mutation taking place. The prose poems of this collection function as multi-generational, anatomically correct matryoshka dolls of mothers and daughters, fathers and sons: consumed, contained, birthed, eviscerated and recycled. Jon reminds us that our world, like Frankenstein’s monster, is constantly unraveling, but the nightmare of this transformation is our only hope for salvation.”