This posthumous book by the poet C.D. Wright defies all my expectations of what a book of poetry (or any genre, for that matter) should be. And yet I am entranced by it.
When I pick up this book, it has the weight of a sculpture. And a haunting photo of a Beech tree, which is the starting point of the book.
The inside cover. C.D. Wright and another glorious Beech.
The inside covers unfolded. The pages of the book sit like a tablet on the inside covers. Every time I open this book it creaks like an old house in the wind.
The pages: words, and amazing photographs.
To be clear, these are not poems in the classic sense. And if you are looking for a 3-act narrative arch, take a pass on this.The book is a meditation on the Beech tree, and her life, and our place on the planet. Just beautiful.