Poetry. Rich in river imagery and an intense sense of the passage of time, THE WASH explores the incessant music that permeates journeys with a destination unknown. Interweaving the voices of John Clare, Audubon, Roethke, and others, the poems depict a landscape of loss in which language and images provide the only concrete platform on which to stand. Ending with an elegy for the self-portrait and an acceptance of the inevitability of decay, the speaker discovers "the stillness of frames both comforts and terrifies." Playing a lyrical voice against the limits of silence, THE WASH uncovers the voices that can be made, and heard, in and out of nature.
Adam Clay's most recent book is Circle Back (Milkweed Editions, 2024). His poems have appeared in Tin House, jubilat, Boston Review, Ploughshares, Denver Quarterly, Iowa Review, New Orleans Review, and elsewhere. He teaches at Louisiana State University and edits AUTOCORRECT, a journal of poetry and poetics.
Populated by birds, pianos, fishes, The Wash builds an atmosphere of fixed, often bewildered attention. The first section, with anachronistic spellings and capitalization, is particularly memorable. I trust every movement Adam makes in these lines.
Trees and water are introduced here as beautiful and sinister. This impression is sustained throughout. Or maybe we are beautiful and sinister guests and invaders to “the black water: the fish his father / made him take from the hook, cut open, and throw back,” the “curve of a lover you see in the shadow/ of that tree.”
These poems create a space in my mind where water rustles over rocks.