Alex Kilgore’s new book of poetry won’t stop holding my heart.
The poet’s voice carries out a rigorously gentle interrogation of the natural world (with a seemingly infinitely regressive attention to structural progression) often seeking through meditations in music’s elusive-yet-concrete capacity to communicate to memory: a voice or series of voices of body-out-of-body, calling as from the wilderness–
& the result is small. Personal. Intimate. A book to hold. Large.