Phoenixbirds

Delicately aware of the world seen and unseen, heard and unheard, the poems in Jane Dickerson’s Phoenixbirds allow for simultaneous loss and transcendence. From the mechanics of an egret’s flight to the image of the necks of long-necked swans, these poems, made of gorgeous sentences and well-cut lines, privy a world I want to inhabit. This is a book to experience again and again.

—Sally Keith, author of Two of Everything

In this closely observed, thoughtfully orchestrated collection, Jane Dickerson explores the paradoxes of a life lived attentively: the steadying power of ephemeral nature, the sometimes baffling histories of families we love, the wound of raising a disabled child, and indeed, the woundedness of life itself. These are brave poems, shaped by the author’s conviction that “It’s a luxury to write / about a bird, any bird, when / the world is full of anguish.

—James Silas Rogers, author of The Collector of Shadows

Simple truths told with a smart tongue. Be educated or bring your dictionary for you are about to learn English… a lovely and poignant English. And know your north American birds and flowers or learn them. animals and plants in this work are vital as the writer’s ancestors, herself and her family…right up there with water and oxygen. Jane Dickerson’s work pulls us underwater just long enough to sense how it must feel to drown in hearing loss, but also to live among brilliant living colors in every direction, even when a tree goes down ‘the space it had filled [was] filled with blue.’ —Don Farrell, author of there are soft and beautiful things in this world – please find me These poems grapple with how to weather grief, grief over the loss of friends, family, species, habitat. A profusion of birds and flowers reminds us of the necessity of joy. Jane Dickerson also reminds us to listen when we can’t see and to see when we can’t hear.

—Athena Kildegaard, author of Midden

‘It’s a luxury to write / about a bird, any bird, when / the world is full of anguish.’ So writes Jane Dickerson in ‘Robin’s Egg Blue.’ The homey robin parenting its nestlings in a sturdy, yet complex nest sits in stark contrast to the phoenix bird of the collection’s title. After its long life, the phoenix goes out in a blaze of glory then rebirths itself from its own ashes. Yet both poems lead us to rebirth and a future. In poems, as well-crafted as the robin’s nest, Dickerson takes on motherhood, adoption, language, deafness, and perception. Linger in them as you would in a sanctuary. Enjoy the profusion of species, color, and sound.

—Morgan Grayce Willow, author of Dodge & Scramble