As Mary Szybist says, dark acre “inhabits the haunted spaces—full of lurking predators, superheated ripening, and dizzying arrays of rumors and signals—in which young bodies become visible to themselves.” This collection examines rurality, queerness, and a spectrum of violences. In Robert Wrigley’s words, “Prepare to be instructed, delighted, wounded, and, most of all, astonished.”
I have been startled by a foregone thing, by this dark acre, by this communique decoded by the poet, this Canese Jarboe, who here gathers an imagery that doesn’t die on the page but goes forth to envision a lonesome and peopled secrecy that attempts, with odd accuracies and interior wishes, to overcome landmark via recognizable deformities. Thrice read, this work lives where written. Pokes the eye in the back of the head. Has nostalgia for the unlocatable.