Mosses and Lichens: Poems

by Devin Johnston

A new collection from the author of Traveler

Not days of anger
but days of mild congestion,
infants of inconstant sorrow,
days of foam in gutters,
blossoms and snow
mingling where they fall,
a spring of cold profusion.

If a rolling stone gathers no moss, the poems in Devin Johnston's Mosses and Lichens attend to what accretes over time, as well as to what erodes. They often take place in the middle of life's journey, at the edge of the woods, at the boundary of human community and wild spaces. Following Ovid, they are poems of subtle transformation and transfer. They draw on early blues and rivers, on ironies and uncertainties, guided by enigmatic signals: "an orange blaze that marks no trail." From image to image, they render fleeting experiences with etched precision. As Ange Mlinko has observed, "Each poem holds in balance a lapidary concision and utter lushness of vowel-work," forming a distinctive music.

Genres: Poetry

96 pages, Hardcover

Published May 7, 2019

About the author

Born in Canton, New York, Devin Johnston grew up in Winston-Salem and received his PhD from the University of Chicago. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Far-Fetched (2015), Sources (2008), a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, Aversions (2004), and Telepathy (2001). His prose writing includes the critical study Precipitations: Contemporary American Poetry as Occult Practice (2002) and Creaturely and Other Essays (2009). A former poetry editor for the Chicago Review from 1995-2000, Johnston co-founded and co-edits Flood Editions with Michael O’Leary.

He lives in St. Louis and teaches at Saint Louis University.

Reviews

[DavidO · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mosses and Lichens: Poems

I have always found lichens fascinating. To my mind they represent a natural form of government that takes utopian ideals to an extreme and often satisfying conclusion. An Earthy rallying cry example of, “why can’t we all get long?”

I once went to the Field Museum of Natural History on the cold and blustery windswept shores of Lake Michigan and was treated to an entire exhibit of Lichens. The Field has two staff Lichenologists, and yes, like it or not that’s a field of study. The exhibit started in this darkly lit humid room with a loamy scent that was highlighted by LED panels quoting (I paraphrase) the two journeymen, “...when I first come to a place I don’t see lichens, and then I see one and suddenly I see lichens everywhere...” and “...I study lichens, some scientists study birds, no one asks what a bird is...” Following along the natural streamline of the foot path the next room was twice the size. Here actual specimens were exhibited with notes on collecting...which was really my first question...how the hell do you peel a lichen off a rock without destroying the poor thing? Lichen composition, symbiosis, history, uses, and their handiness as a tool to gauge environmental changes were discussed. The thallus vanities seemed endless and the growth matrixes were equally as varietal. Near the rooms center was a scene with a rusting pickup truck with lichens growing everywhere augmented by gently picked banjo notes...which I may have imagined...the musical notes not the vehicle.

I am also a big fan of mosses. My particular favorite is Sphagnum Moss due to its colors and pillowy walking properties. I am not suggesting that mosses walk, but that over a dying lake you can walk on them as the carpet wobbles.

One day I went to the Library to check out a book I have been reading on and off for the past six months and I decided to familiarize myself with the Library’s version of the latest offerings. There it was, Mosses and Lichens, with a front facing cover. Quick examination noted that this was Poems, (finding a good guidebook to lichens is nearly impossible.). I was not disappointed. Honestly I have written a poem or two that at least mentions Lichens and if this was whole book of lichen and moss poems then truly this was a carnival ping pong in the fishbowl victory!

Rather than finishing a book by Aldo Leopold describing Conservation as an ethic, I eagerly plowed into the slim volume of word art. So here is the thing...damnit you can’t judge a book by its cover. This was a personal collection of poems that describes adventures in the outdoors, in travel, in the heart, in the bed, and in literature. It really only mentions mosses and lichens a couple times, “...an areole of lichen lives on rock and air...” That’s the point though, “...pervasive, yet so reticent that many have no common names.” p5. Each of the natural poems seem to grow from some sort of substrate and encompass a moment of experience. These are lovely personal vignettes of a sudden recognized appearance, instances of respiration, eons of longing that reluctantly though passionately end with release.

I wish this came in a light flimsy paperback rather than a hardcover. It would be a great companion on a solitary hike, or with some of these poems, a great shared read in the flickering light of a campfire. I felt I had been to many of the places Devin Johnston describes. I just wish he would have included some of the pictures he’d taken. After all after seeing one you suddenly, “...see lichens everywhere.”

[Jee Koh · Rating 2 out of 5]

The best of the "nature poems" is the title poem "Mosses and Lichens," with its precise yet evocative descriptions, and probing, profound human meaning. The other nature poems in the collection resort to nature a little too easily for metaphor. The best of the "character poems" are "Frankie," for its interesting use of legal language to describe a violent crime, and "Parlor Music," for its accurate depiction of a deceased aunt through the accumulation of well-chosen details. The other "character poems" are forgettable. The smaller pieces, reminiscent of haiku, usually appearing as sequences, make no great impression. The pieces after Ovid are too smooth and workmanlike: they lack personality.

[Liz VanDerwerken · Rating 5 out of 5]

I happened upon this volume by chance, months ago before the pandemic, caught by its title on display in a favorite indie bookshop. Devin Johnston’s poems are quiet but arresting; his writing is rich and layered, qualities belied by the title of this collection. He is one of several poets I’ve read and loved who uses traditional poetic form in an occasional and subtle but present manner (not hitting you over the head with it, like iambic pentameter—which, don’t get me wrong, I love in its appropriate contexts). He also uses words to their full advantage, fully leaning into their multitudinous nuances and full meaning. The result is wonderful and I’m looking forward to reading more of his work.

[Harry Palacio · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’d say a 3 1/2 but the poetry starts off with naturalistic descriptive and then lends itself to mythology according to Ovid and with the tale of Icarus told succinctly poetic but terse an agreeable read I tore through the pages

[Ryan Mishap · Rating 2 out of 5]

Like genres of music, each poet plays a certain style. As such, not every sound connects with the listener. Which is the situation we have here. While I did enjoy some of the images and the infrequent slight rhyme, there wasn't enough here that spoke to me.

[Laurel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sticky, almost gummy, words, many symbols of growth.

[Charles Source · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the kind of poetry that’s a pleasure to read – it touches on various subjects, is concise and well-honed, and is fairly accessible. And though the poems are economical with words, nothing is sacrificed in terms of meaning and they’re full of redolent imagery. Compared to another contemporary book of poetry I’ve read (and reviewed) recently – Days & Days, by Michael Dickman -- the style of Mosses and Lichens is more straightforward and ‘traditional’. That’s not to say one is better or worse, but the style here does make things simpler for the reader.

The poet covers topics as diverse as his kids’ drawings, the neighborhood outside his window, prison dogs, detailed nature scenes, the disorienting experience of arriving at a vacation home hallway around the world, and classic Greek stories modeled on Ovid (“Actaeon” and “The Fall of Icarus”, for example). In other words, you’re getting a whole gamut of topics in this slim little volume, which is nice because it opens your mind to all sorts of different things. Stylistically, the author shifts from more punctuated, fully-wrought poems (a couple are even rhymed, with stanzas) to more minimal ones with almost no punctuation that create stark images and ruminations in one’s mind. The writer is also fond of interjecting italicized quotes or asides into the middle of his verses, which mixes up the flow and adds an outside voice in an intriguing way.

One of the more mysterious and fascinating poems, for me, is “The Sinkhole”, which seems to depict a vision or something about an undiscovered sinkhole/cave-type space that extends under the narrator’s house without anyone knowing it (and is also the Greek land of the undead?). It’s just one example of how the poems make you think about things differently, with many of them ending in unexpected and thought-provoking ways (the last lines of “The Sinkhole”, for instance, are “As my head begins to settle,/ days flash behind my lids/ without sound – Lampryridae,/ the cold and shining ones.”). In fact, one thing I noticed about reading this book was that I’d often be left contemplating stuff I hadn’t thought about in a while, if ever (like hidden caves or Icarus’ wings), which was a refreshing experience compared to the more mindless results of standardized forms of ‘entertainment’ these days (watching Netflix or TV, reading magazines or the news). It’s almost as if the poems reveal something. For that reason, as well as the author’s efficient craftsmanship and subtle lyricism, I’d recommend this book for any enthusiast of poetry.

[Darrin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Devin Johnston's Mosses and Lichens: Poems is straightforward, mainly nature-centric poetry but just isn't my thing. I did, however, enjoy many of the poems in this book because I am a bit of a nature-geek myself. This was one of four random poetry books I pulled down from the poetry shelf at our local library.

I like poems that challenge me to think about what I am reading or, at least, make me want to learn something new. There were more of the latter than the former in this book. Of those, there are three poems based on the works of the classical Greek poet, Ovid; Actaeon, High Water, and The Fall of Icarus. My knowledge of classical Greek and Roman literature and poetry is minimal at best. This is probably something I should rectify because there are a lot of allusions to it both in poetry and fiction.

Of the three poems noted I really enjoyed Actaeon which is both the title and the main character of the poem. Actaeon is a hero in Greek mythology who, while hunting with his dogs, stumbles upon Artemis (Diana), naked, bathing in the forest. In her anger at being seen, she turns him into a deer, who is in turn hunted and eventually killed by his fellow hunters and his own dogs.

Here are some lines....

With no more words, she summoned forth
from the damp patches on his head
the beams and branching tines of antlers,
and stretched his neck and pricked his ears.
She turned his hands to cloven hooves
and upper arms to slender thighs,
enveloping his body in a hide of dappled fur.
She sent a sudden surge of fear
through his veins: he leapt and fled,
wondering at his own speed
until he glimpsed his antlered head
reflected in a little stream.

Later at the end of the poem, he hears his hunt-mates calling for him, wondering where he could be as he was missing out on the deer they were chasing....which, of course, is Artemis.

Of course, he'd rather have missed out,
and he would rather have seen than felt
the dreadful things his dogs had done.
From everywhere they circled round,
their muzzles buried in his flesh,
and tore apart their master,
whatever trace of him endured
beneath the semblance of a deer.

I found myself hunting down Greek gods and heroes and looking up more information on Ovid and put the book, Metamorphoses, on my to-read list. Perhaps, even if though this was not one of my favorite books of poetry, it will spur me to gain a better depth in classical Greek literature.

[Harry Podschwit · Rating 3 out of 5]

My first minor complaint was that I expecting a lot more nature poems based on the title.

Setting that complaint aside, while there were a couple good reads in this collection that made interesting references to history and culture, I just couldn’t relate to the majority of these poems. Maybe they just weren’t for me or I am not that sophisticated, but I finished most of these pieces confused.

Given I haven’t read much poetry before, I want to be charitable in my review since maybe this wasn’t for beginners, but if I am being honest, I finished the book feeling a little underwhelmed.

[Matthew · Rating 3 out of 5]

Cute book, because it's little, almost pocket-sized, but the poems themselves are hit-or-miss. He's best when he's narrating after Ovid or when he's describing -- just describing! -- a scene, because those descriptions tend to take on deeper meaning more naturally than the poems where he's clearly trying to Say Something. Poets should never Say Something. That said, though, if you're an aspiring poet who wants to read some great lines and hear some great sounds -- several of the blurbs on the back talk about his use of assonance! -- this is a great one to go with.

[Zee · Rating 4 out of 5]

I initially felt conflicted about these poems, but I find myself still thinking about them. They grow on you, which makes the title particularly apt. Excited to check out more of Johnston's work.

[Michelle Smart · Rating 2 out of 5]

These didn't really speak to me.

[strange sea shell · Rating 3 out of 5]

Favourite poem: Mosses and Lichens