Mosslight

by Kimberley Pittman-Schulz

Winner of the 2011 FutureCycle Poetry Book Prize. In MOSSLIGHT, Kimberley Pittman-Schulz invites readers on a walking meditation, a crooked path through loss and longing where solace shimmers in the shadows, rooted in the rhythms of the natural world. Each poem is a small epiphany offered by unlikely mentors—decaying redwood logs and indifferent ravens, “the golden gel” of a banana slug and a blur of wet bees, tiny fish caught in a shoe, a dog’s black face leaning from a truck window, even “eight rusty ants dragging a dead wasp through the grass” that challenge us with, “Who are you, anyway?” Like a lost explorer—part-naturalist, part-Buddhist—the voice in this collection leads the reader deep into the present moment, “stark and lush,” reminding us that while “alone each foot burns/into cold layers” there is a larger interconnectedness, as “even in wet snow falling,/the wren sings.”

Genres: Poetry

110 pages, Paperback

First published August 2, 2011

Reviews

[Jen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lush is a word that sticks with me after reading this book. I'm not sure the word was ever used in the poems but the world inhabited is lush and the language is often lush as well.

The first stanza of "Tending Our Watershed":

The daily surprise--waking
in river sound, the pulsing rush
through budding alders, weep
of cedar limbs, low reed grasses,
then mist rising, so much green
sighing at once.

The book is divided into 5 parts. The first two are elegiac in tone. There is tension between the acceptance of loss and clinging to life, accepting and embracing the full cycle.

From "Morning Prayer, Late July":

I've been saving his white fur in a plastic bag,
with the tortoise shell fur of his companion
gone since last November. I've been turning
old, dead flower heads, crumpled
leaves and stems into the garden soil.

The third section is travel poems and they are definitely her weakest, lacking the sense of intense feeling of connection that infuse her other poems.

The last two sections reinforce Pittman-Schulz's immersion in the minutia of her ecosystem. I've never known a poet so obsessed with the little things, beetles, mosses, and the little processes of decomposition. I came away with the impression she was always looking down, carefully, at what was happening at her feet. From "Suppertime, Early Spring":

scattering, the hard iridescence of beetle wings
dismantling, ants and spiders and true bugs
stewing, the soil ripening and blooming.

Throughout the book, there is this sense of quiet, constant, lush consumption happening everywhere. Decay is passionately observed as part of what the process of life is about.

My favorite poems in the book, and those I consider the most accomplished, are poems about the loss of her mother. The poem "After Chemotherapy" (such a mundane title) has a circular structure, beginning:

I do nothing but watch
a sky ripe with stars, spilling a path of light
over her bed, a brilliance fading
until there is one faint star
slowly receding, the last point of light
as the night turns itself off

Which seems at first like mere description until we get to the end of the poem:

Was it Christ or Buddha who said
"Make of yourself a light"? My mother
is a star, cooling. Each day her body
with its heart of fire, consumes itself,
flinging out a little less light,
drawing us closer.

A poem about loss both grim and beautiful.

I gave this book three stars because many of her poems do not strike me as reaching beyond mere description. But I would read another book of hers without hesitation. I like her lush use of language and would hope to find more gems like "After Chemotherapy." I'll keep this book on my shelves to share with others who are dealing with the death of a loved one or perhaps are facing their own mortality. And also as an example of a nature poet who focuses on life's smaller processes, and one whose use of language is sonorous without being overwrought.

[Nina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mosslight is a quiet, thoughtful, reflective book. The collection contains primarily poems about the natural world, including a section of travel poems. Even the poems which deal with people include elements of nature. I tend to shy away from collections of nature poems, but thought I should stretch myself, so I was eager to read Mosslight. Most of the poems are almost too quiet for my taste, mere description of a scene, without truly exposing an idea or connection that would make the scene take on larger meaning or significance. The “ah-ha moments” were more of a gentle, reflective reaction, as opposed to the startling revelation where I, as a reader, put the book down in awe. The lines are carefully constructed, line breaks tightly controlled, leaving the reader wishing for a bit of wildness. Perhaps the speaker is moving against a natural world which is messy and beyond our control.

There are many lovely lines, lines that made me wish the poet had gone further with imagery and metaphor.. I especially enjoyed the poems where Pittman-Schulz mentions her parents.
Once, when my mother bent to kiss
her three small girls, leaned into their breathings,
letting her lips tap theirs, the sound
reminded her of water dripping into other water,
(Magic)

My favorite poem in the collection contains a lovely opening, if lovely can used in a poem titled “After Chemotherapy.”
I can do nothing but watch
a sky ripe with stars, spilling a path of light
over her bed,
The helplessness the speaker feels, even after tenderly bathing her mother, “her long, perfect fingers that remember/doing all of this for me,” is evident in the closing lines.
My mother
is a star, cooling. Each day her body,
with its heart of fire, consumes itself,
flinging out a little less light,
drawing us closer.

In “If I Could See the End Coming,” Pittman-Schulz reveals the solitary nature of being a writer, especially a poet.
I wouldn’t expect a sudden white light
or a familiar crowd on the horizon
waving me forward- just trees hiking
down the mountainside, winter creek
softening at the edges, filling with snowmelt,
tumbling toward me.

[Molly · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wanted to feel fonder of this book than I did, not just because the publisher was generous enough to share a copy with readers of poetry, but also because the setting of this book is steeped in places I adore: the Pacific Northwest, Alaska, etc. The poet, too, feels generous in her worldview, and I was drawn to her bio, which mentioned her husband, who is a wildlife biologist and her hobbies including hiking and kayaking. I feel a kinship.

But--the poetry itself did not usually feel fresh or new to me. I wanted there to be more surprise in the images and lines. I think, mostly, there was a kind of generic feel to some of the language, using words like "amazing" or "happy" where something stronger would have done better. I think to Neruda's line: "blood of the children ran through the streets / without fuss, like the blood of the children." (Depending on translation; some end with "like children's blood," etc.) But Pittman-Schulz didn't seem to be using simple language to create a stark reality; instead, it seemed the natural language of a welcoming poet, though not strong language.

I also wanted something else to hold onto, other than the naming of the setting. Some circumstance to rise up. More human interaction, which felt vague here. Something at stake. Generally speaking, I'd be content with a sequence of poems that take place outdoors, but for whatever reason, be it the overused words or what-have-you, I wanted something more.

There were some lovely moments though:

"Our bodies beneath our clothes / are warm, like peaches in a brown bag" (39)

"the moist, moved soil round / as peas, the niche / in the white lightning of roots / into which they drop / their babies / like secret plums." (45)

(night on a boat) "The sound of lips smacking all night / is water licking the hull." (58)

And maybe if, instead of a 100+ page book of poetry, (which is altogether too short for a poet you adore, I ought to point out) it could have been edited down to a thirty-page chapbook. Take the strongest, meld into stronger, let it be tight and the repetition may not have been so stark (the bruises, the adjective-noun naming, etc.).

A good book, perhaps, for a non-reader of poetry, instead of someone who has been through such rigorous study. The objections I have wouldn't be present for those who aren't regular readers, but instead would feel a world petaling open (to use a word she connected to snow, which was nice).

[Jimmy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I received a copy for free from the publisher. I felt guilty that I did not enjoy the book much. I hated to write a negative review. I delayed writing it. I even read it again.

Looking back on the book, I can't think of any one poem that struck me. That made me want to write one just like that. Just the opposite. I want to write one that shakes up the boring world of this type of poetry.

Here's one example that the editor chose:

MAGIC

When a bird dies, if you place the empty purse
of its body under the green velvet
of a catalpa leaf, nestle it
among berry canes and nettle,
the leaf will curl brittle, catch on a thorn,
scrape wind, earth-low, overlooked,
and where the bird was
will be bent grass.

Once, when my mother bent to kiss
her three small girls, leaned into their breathings,
letting her lips tap theirs, the sound
reminded her of water dripping into other water,
but later, when the house stood scorched,
every window a black, gaping mouth,
where that sound had been,
now, one child.

These things could be magic
or physics or god.
No one really knows.

The last stanza is awful in my view. I know the difference between god, physics, and magic. I'm not a nine year old in Sunday school. A good critique would have encouraged her to delete the entire stanza. Her strength is in the natural details.

Another flaw in other poems is the excessive number of questions. And meaningless ones. Should have been deleted.

Still another flaw is the too much personal information and intrusion. It's great her husband kisses her on both eyes, but that's a basic of Seduction 101.

[FutureCycle Press · Rating 5 out of 5]

We are the publisher, so all of our authors get five stars from us. Excerpts:


GENESIS

It all began with
an amoeba singing

against the fear
of separation

one throatless note
static

then the fluid soul
torn apart.


MAGIC

When a bird dies, if you place the empty purse
of its body under the green velvet
of a catalpa leaf, nestle it
among berry canes and nettle,
the leaf will curl brittle, catch on a thorn,
scrape wind, earth-low, overlooked,
and where the bird was
will be bent grass.

Once, when my mother bent to kiss
her three small girls, leaned into their breathings,
letting her lips tap theirs, the sound
reminded her of water dripping into other water,
but later, when the house stood scorched,
every window a black, gaping mouth,
where that sound had been,
now, one child.

These things could be magic
or physics or god.
No one really knows.

[Donald Armfield · Rating 3 out of 5]

I received a copy of Mosslight by Kimberley Pittman-Schulz from Futurecycle Press for review.

Nature is my overall favorite when it comes to summer. Kimberley takes gardens, flowers and a walk over grounds of beauty. Some of the poems are pretty basic,but written well. I am more of a a metaphor poetry reader where it leaves the reader thinking.

My favorites:

Web
October
Seen Things
At Risk

Seen Things:

Not a twig, but a tail,
grey-green in pebbles, yellow beneath,
the lizard off in poppies or ferns;

a husk of spider, black costume
perfect but empty, caught
with dew, threaded into web;

[Patty Hanahoe-Dosch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Good poems!

[Christina Borgoyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a beautiful collection of poetry that I really enjoyed reading and I got it for free off of goodreads!

[Ellen Roberts Young · Rating 5 out of 5]

This poet focuses on small things - insect, moss - and makes something of them by comparison or elaboration. A very pleasing read.