A World in Which
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The arresting poems of J.L. Conrad mesmerize as they turn on dislocation and disjunction, the spaces in which we lose footing. Here the ordinary shifts, the daily set askew at unexpected angles. I felt the top of my head taken off in poem after poem as the poet worked her Dickinsonian magic. Zoo animals escape to run through the streets. People do not heal, but miraculously severed heads still sing. The world the poet inhabits rests on a foundation of potential doom, of hushed anxieties, yet “love keeps unfolding.” And though “we make our way out not knowing the way back,” a faith of sorts calls out to us, assuring us “what you have will not be everything / but will be enough.” For this, we should give thanks. —Todd Davis
