Velocity time travels through memory and conjecture, yet Krygowski's poems--often sad, sometimes humorous, always generous--return us continually to the beautiful and difficult here-and-now. Lovingly grounded in the ordinary, these are thinking poems--tightly crafted, accessible inquiries more interested in exploring stark and complicated knowledge than in proclaiming it. The poems, which use a sister's death as a touchstone, dwell in the overlap of emotions. Loss touches happiness, desire touches fear, love touches futile knowing. Krygowski's unstoppable energy for seeking and revealing disparate thoughts and emotions makes the collection wholly human. This fresh, surprising voice speaks for the intelligent heart in each of us.
Love the speed, the sharp claws, the deadpan sorrow. "How She Learned to Listen" -- the total freakin realness of that closet, and its fully loaded offer of what we are.
I read this whole book quickly and was almost stunned that I'd never read these poems before yet they made all the sense in the world. Dark, though -- and the courageousness of this had me on alert.
(And I got here thanks to Stephanie Cawley at Murphy Writing at Stockton University. She was helping me with a poem of mine and said -- hey, this is reminding me of Nancy Krygowski. And now I think -- what an honor.)
I had a really hard time relating to these poems, or finding the heart in them. I recognize that they are attempting to describe difficult experience, and communicating that level of pain is unpleasant. I am unsure whether these poems are the best frame to relate those parts of the poet's life.