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Together in a Sudden Strangeness: America's Poets Respond to the Pandemic
In this urgent outpouring of American voices, our poets speak to us as they shelter in place, addressing our collective fear, grief, and hope from eloquent and diverse individual perspectives.
As the novel coronavirus and its devastating effects began to spread in the United States and around the world, Alice Quinn reached out to poets across the country to see if, and what, they were writing under quarantine. Moved and galvanized by the response, the onetime New Yorker poetry editor and recent former director of the Poetry Society of America began collecting the poems arriving in her inbox, assembling this various, intimate, and intricate portrait of our suddenly altered reality. In these pages, we find poets grieving for relatives they are separated from or recovering from illness themselves, attending to suddenly complicated household tasks or turning to literature for strength, considering the bravery of medical workers or working their own shifts at the hospital, and, as the Black Lives Matter movement has swept the globe, reflecting on the inequities in our society that amplify sorrow and demand our engagement. From fierce and resilient to wistful, darkly humorous, and emblematically reverent about the earth and the vulnerability of human beings in frightening times, the poems in this collection find the words to describe what can feel unspeakably difficult and strange, providing wisdom, companionship, and depths of feeling that enliven our spirits.
As the novel coronavirus and its devastating effects began to spread in the United States and around the world, Alice Quinn reached out to poets across the country to see if, and what, they were writing under quarantine. Moved and galvanized by the response, the onetime New Yorker poetry editor and recent former director of the Poetry Society of America began collecting the poems arriving in her inbox, assembling this various, intimate, and intricate portrait of our suddenly altered reality. In these pages, we find poets grieving for relatives they are separated from or recovering from illness themselves, attending to suddenly complicated household tasks or turning to literature for strength, considering the bravery of medical workers or working their own shifts at the hospital, and, as the Black Lives Matter movement has swept the globe, reflecting on the inequities in our society that amplify sorrow and demand our engagement. From fierce and resilient to wistful, darkly humorous, and emblematically reverent about the earth and the vulnerability of human beings in frightening times, the poems in this collection find the words to describe what can feel unspeakably difficult and strange, providing wisdom, companionship, and depths of feeling that enliven our spirits.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published June 9, 2020
83 people are currently reading
654 people want to read
About the author
Alice Quinn
3 books1 followerAlice Quinn, the executive director of the Poetry Society of America for eighteen years, was also the poetry editor at The New Yorker from 1987 to 2007 and an editor at Alfred A. Knopf for more than ten years prior to that. She teaches at Columbia University’s School of the Arts and is the editor of a book of Elizabeth Bishop’s writings, Edgar Allan Poe & The Juke-Box: Uncollected Poems, Drafts, and Fragments, as well as a forthcoming book of Bishop’s journals. She lives in New York City and Millerton, New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 83 reviews
September 4, 2022
“I wondered if God, too, went into hiding”.
“I spent half the day in the bathtub trying to read something. Trying to find something to latch onto. No real interest in the narrative.
Actually, there’s something I like in this novel. Something finally. When two boys are on the beach, one of them puts their sunglasses inside his sneakers while he swims”.
“But sometimes standing still is real life”.
“I had a lot of time on my hands—so many minutes I couldn’t even give them away”.
“He had been sick only five days. Our friend. Turned out later maybe it was the virus. Maybe a heart attack. No one will ever know. An autopsy was refused. Now he is ash.
Soon the grocery store will open. Because I am old, I will go in first: cheese, almonds, eggs if they have them. I can’t think any further than that”.
“From my window I see the world with us not in it”.
The collection of these poems by many different artists, writers, poets — was a brilliant idea — memorable images — tenderly truthful.
“Together in a Sudden Strangeness” offers beautiful poems during the pandemic: poems about grief, fear, loneliness, death, hope, love, etc.
They were deeply human and I’m grateful to have read them.
“I spent half the day in the bathtub trying to read something. Trying to find something to latch onto. No real interest in the narrative.
Actually, there’s something I like in this novel. Something finally. When two boys are on the beach, one of them puts their sunglasses inside his sneakers while he swims”.
“But sometimes standing still is real life”.
“I had a lot of time on my hands—so many minutes I couldn’t even give them away”.
“He had been sick only five days. Our friend. Turned out later maybe it was the virus. Maybe a heart attack. No one will ever know. An autopsy was refused. Now he is ash.
Soon the grocery store will open. Because I am old, I will go in first: cheese, almonds, eggs if they have them. I can’t think any further than that”.
“From my window I see the world with us not in it”.
The collection of these poems by many different artists, writers, poets — was a brilliant idea — memorable images — tenderly truthful.
“Together in a Sudden Strangeness” offers beautiful poems during the pandemic: poems about grief, fear, loneliness, death, hope, love, etc.
They were deeply human and I’m grateful to have read them.
March 14, 2021
The title refers to lines from the poem, "Keeping Quiet," by Pablo Neruda written in 1954. Of all the poems perfect for the pandemic--this one is it. It reminds me of those early days of Lockdown when it felt as if the whole world in an instant stopped and were deeply connected within the silence. A pause. A great collective pause.
This anthology is a superbly felt collection of pandemic poems written roughly one year ago at the beginning of the lockdown. Reading these has given me a deep feeling of solace--as only poems can do, can take a moment and lift it up to infinity--and it feels like the reading of it is a healing.
Personal favorites from this anthology:
Julia Alvarez "How Will This Pandemic Affect Poetry?"
Joshua Bennett "Dad Poem"
April Bernard "Haunt"
Eliza Griswald "Six Months From Patient Zero"
Susan Kinsolving "My Heart Cannot Accept It All"
John Koethe "Sheltering at Home"
John Okrent "Two Days in March" (from Corona Sonnets)
Diane Seuss "Pandemicon"
Tess Taylor "Under Juncos, the Baby Stones"
Noah Warren "An Apartment"
Rex Wilder "Canal Nocturne"
"Keeping Quiet"
by
Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
This anthology is a superbly felt collection of pandemic poems written roughly one year ago at the beginning of the lockdown. Reading these has given me a deep feeling of solace--as only poems can do, can take a moment and lift it up to infinity--and it feels like the reading of it is a healing.
Personal favorites from this anthology:
Julia Alvarez "How Will This Pandemic Affect Poetry?"
Joshua Bennett "Dad Poem"
April Bernard "Haunt"
Eliza Griswald "Six Months From Patient Zero"
Susan Kinsolving "My Heart Cannot Accept It All"
John Koethe "Sheltering at Home"
John Okrent "Two Days in March" (from Corona Sonnets)
Diane Seuss "Pandemicon"
Tess Taylor "Under Juncos, the Baby Stones"
Noah Warren "An Apartment"
Rex Wilder "Canal Nocturne"
"Keeping Quiet"
by
Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
November 5, 2020
This collection of poetry comes from poets coping with the pandemic and all its associated issues - loss (of loved ones or work), disconnect, loneliness, isolation; but also discoveries - creativity, quiet, nature. As always it is hard to give an overall rating but as I read and listened to these during Election Week and reflected on how this has been a very hard and long year, I found them to be a balm.
Favorites:
Haunt by April Bernard
"...This is her kind
of catastrophe, rife with irony and fear
and small domestic refinements...."
Say Thank You Say I'm Sorry by Jericho Brown
(about the people who have to work during the pandemic)
The End of Poetry by Ada Limón (read at The New Yorker by the poet)
"...enough of the brutal and the border,
enough of can you see me, can you hear me..."
I Hear the Wild Birds Singing Tangled Roads by Shane McCrae
(of noticing more, hearing more, when people are doing less, out less)
Corona by Dante Micheaux
(similar theme)
Because We Want to Imagine by Laura Mullen
"...didn't we think mostly
About dead bodies and what
We would do with a whole
Lot of money..."
Poem for My Students by Sharon Olds
(like it sounds)
Aftermaths by Tommy Orange
"...Quarantine comes from the Latin meaning forty days. How
long has it been and how long will it be and is it the same kind of forty as from
the ark and the flood, the devil in the desert and the forty-hour workweek?
How we will our lives into something more?"
Weather by Claudia Rankine (listen to the poet read the poem)
"...I say weather but I mean
a November that won’t be held off. This time
nothing, no one forgotten. We are here for the storm
that’s storming because what’s taken matters."
Canal Nocturne by Rex Wilder
"...We are stranded, too near each other to breathe."
I had a copy of the extended edition of the eBook from the publisher, and listened to the original version of the audio, where the poems are read by a host of audiobook narrators, but not necessarily the poets themselves. The Jericho Brown and Claudia Rankine are just a few of the newly added titles, so I would definitely go for the expanded edition which comes out November 17.
Favorites:
Haunt by April Bernard
"...This is her kind
of catastrophe, rife with irony and fear
and small domestic refinements...."
Say Thank You Say I'm Sorry by Jericho Brown
(about the people who have to work during the pandemic)
The End of Poetry by Ada Limón (read at The New Yorker by the poet)
"...enough of the brutal and the border,
enough of can you see me, can you hear me..."
I Hear the Wild Birds Singing Tangled Roads by Shane McCrae
(of noticing more, hearing more, when people are doing less, out less)
Corona by Dante Micheaux
(similar theme)
Because We Want to Imagine by Laura Mullen
"...didn't we think mostly
About dead bodies and what
We would do with a whole
Lot of money..."
Poem for My Students by Sharon Olds
(like it sounds)
Aftermaths by Tommy Orange
"...Quarantine comes from the Latin meaning forty days. How
long has it been and how long will it be and is it the same kind of forty as from
the ark and the flood, the devil in the desert and the forty-hour workweek?
How we will our lives into something more?"
Weather by Claudia Rankine (listen to the poet read the poem)
"...I say weather but I mean
a November that won’t be held off. This time
nothing, no one forgotten. We are here for the storm
that’s storming because what’s taken matters."
Canal Nocturne by Rex Wilder
"...We are stranded, too near each other to breathe."
I had a copy of the extended edition of the eBook from the publisher, and listened to the original version of the audio, where the poems are read by a host of audiobook narrators, but not necessarily the poets themselves. The Jericho Brown and Claudia Rankine are just a few of the newly added titles, so I would definitely go for the expanded edition which comes out November 17.
April 29, 2021
Just look at the titles of the poems in this collection, and it's obvious 2020 was a different sort of year:
After the Apocalypse
Sequestration
Sheltering in Place
Corona Diary
I See on Zoom He's Growing...
Six Months from Patient Zero
Today, When I Could Do Nothing
At CVS Wearing a Mask I Buy Plastic Easter Eggs for My Daughters
These are not regular times. These are not regular poems. They pack a punch.
Here are a few of the lines I loved.
"...but the green disguises of God—who’s on his way but
not ready to save us yet—were all I found today."
"No longer must I be nice to anyone except the people in
this house."
"so calm and quiet
that I wondered
if God, too,
had gone into hiding
and sheltered in place."
"A mask falls off another mask
until there’s none to don.
We manufacture more."
"this vast and shocking viral sprawl,
infections with no end in sight.
Forgive me please. I’m thinking small.
My heart cannot accept it all."
"I hate it—but then home
Was always a place to depart from
Or come back to, not a state of being in itself."
"Everything is freeze-framed
Our frailties laid bare
But the daffodils are opening
And there’s water and there’s air."
"Perhaps when we are gone
the mythological animals—
dragons and griffins, the beautiful lonely phoenix—
will come out of hiding"
"I love you, but can you take your sister
and please slip away from gravity
in the flying saucer of your Baa Baa black sheep?
I don’t want you to see the planet this sad."
"There is only one life.
How long will I hold mine like water in cupped hands?"
After the Apocalypse
Sequestration
Sheltering in Place
Corona Diary
I See on Zoom He's Growing...
Six Months from Patient Zero
Today, When I Could Do Nothing
At CVS Wearing a Mask I Buy Plastic Easter Eggs for My Daughters
These are not regular times. These are not regular poems. They pack a punch.
Here are a few of the lines I loved.
"...but the green disguises of God—who’s on his way but
not ready to save us yet—were all I found today."
"No longer must I be nice to anyone except the people in
this house."
"so calm and quiet
that I wondered
if God, too,
had gone into hiding
and sheltered in place."
"A mask falls off another mask
until there’s none to don.
We manufacture more."
"this vast and shocking viral sprawl,
infections with no end in sight.
Forgive me please. I’m thinking small.
My heart cannot accept it all."
"I hate it—but then home
Was always a place to depart from
Or come back to, not a state of being in itself."
"Everything is freeze-framed
Our frailties laid bare
But the daffodils are opening
And there’s water and there’s air."
"Perhaps when we are gone
the mythological animals—
dragons and griffins, the beautiful lonely phoenix—
will come out of hiding"
"I love you, but can you take your sister
and please slip away from gravity
in the flying saucer of your Baa Baa black sheep?
I don’t want you to see the planet this sad."
"There is only one life.
How long will I hold mine like water in cupped hands?"
July 24, 2020
Poetry to Fight the Virus
This is an ambitious collection of poems reflecting a specific point in time. One thing we are learning as this pandemic drags on is that it feels different from week to week so poems from April almost seem like ten years ago. These feel New York-centric and back when people were taking more care with staying in and free of the shadow of the George Floyd murder. But none of that diminishes their importance. It just reflects a new collection compiled now in July would need to reflect the up-endings that have occurred since spring. It will be interesting to see which of these poems have a life outside of the virus.
This is an ambitious collection of poems reflecting a specific point in time. One thing we are learning as this pandemic drags on is that it feels different from week to week so poems from April almost seem like ten years ago. These feel New York-centric and back when people were taking more care with staying in and free of the shadow of the George Floyd murder. But none of that diminishes their importance. It just reflects a new collection compiled now in July would need to reflect the up-endings that have occurred since spring. It will be interesting to see which of these poems have a life outside of the virus.
April 19, 2021
This is a poetry collection of American poets that came together and wrote various poems about the beginning of the pandemic. The poets come from all backgrounds and walks of life. I really loved some of the poetry in this collection full of power, emotion, and commemorating a period that will end up in history books.
The poems range in subject from feelings of uncertainty, life, loss, love, racism, hate crimes against the AAPI community, the entire world witnessing the murder of George Floyd, quarantining at home, and the immediate changes that occurred in our everyday lives. Some of these poems were so powerful and captured the emotions of so many Americans within their beautiful prose. Other poems made me roll my eyes; some poets complaining that they are bored of baking bread or how they have to work from home, a luxury denied to so many of us who have had to work throughout the pandemic and many who lost their jobs, and some poets complaining about first world issues which seemed so insensitive and out of touch in comparison to the highly impactful pieces in this collection. Maybe I might have more of an appreciation for the other poems 10 years from now, but some of the poems were just complaints by very privileged people that seemed to lack gratitude or empathy. But the poems that were full of humanity, of the front lines of the pandemic, of not getting to say goodbye, of the people that went above and beyond for the dying, of the civil rights movement, of the increasing threats towards the AAPI community, those poems gripped my heart and did not let go.
The poems range in subject from feelings of uncertainty, life, loss, love, racism, hate crimes against the AAPI community, the entire world witnessing the murder of George Floyd, quarantining at home, and the immediate changes that occurred in our everyday lives. Some of these poems were so powerful and captured the emotions of so many Americans within their beautiful prose. Other poems made me roll my eyes; some poets complaining that they are bored of baking bread or how they have to work from home, a luxury denied to so many of us who have had to work throughout the pandemic and many who lost their jobs, and some poets complaining about first world issues which seemed so insensitive and out of touch in comparison to the highly impactful pieces in this collection. Maybe I might have more of an appreciation for the other poems 10 years from now, but some of the poems were just complaints by very privileged people that seemed to lack gratitude or empathy. But the poems that were full of humanity, of the front lines of the pandemic, of not getting to say goodbye, of the people that went above and beyond for the dying, of the civil rights movement, of the increasing threats towards the AAPI community, those poems gripped my heart and did not let go.
January 18, 2021
I think I liked the idea more than the poems themselves. Perhaps it is still too soon to travel back to these moments as the situation is still quite the same. It may age well.
April 23, 2021
A great collection of poetry showing the snapshot of time when Covid and lockdowns had taken over our lives, and we didn't know where the light at the end of the tunnel would possibly be. As in any poetry anthology, not every poem will speak to every person, and not every poem will probably stand the test of time. But as a body of work, these expressions of longing, sorrow, hope, togetherness and divisiveness resonated with me. I'd love to see another anthology when this Covid experience is "over", that represents an even bigger range of pandemic fatigue, frustration, and beauty.
February 5, 2021
Some of these were so poignant and raw that I had to out the book down for several days, some were eh, meh. Overall, I loved that they exist and are timely and made me feel so completely.
January 27, 2021
This collection of poems, most of which were written over forty days in April and May of 2020, presents keen observations of the isolation, discovery, longing, and grief of a radically changed world order. They bear witness to what we experiencing so that we will not simply remember this moment (like we could forget?), but also understand what it worked in our souls. An additional volume focusing on quarantine fatigue, reactions to political lies, and the crushing number of sick and dying will also be needed. And when this is over, poets will certainly give voice to those emotions as well. Looking forward to it. Actual rating: 4.5
July 4, 2021
I like that the title was pulled from a Pablo Neruda poem- because Neruda is the GOAT.
The poetry collection works well to address what happened to people during the pandemic, but there was nothing special or captivating in any of them to move me in profound ways.
The poetry collection works well to address what happened to people during the pandemic, but there was nothing special or captivating in any of them to move me in profound ways.
June 27, 2021
Giving this one three stars because, like many event-oriented anthologies, it is pretty uneven. A few very good poems sandwiched between a lot of middling-average fare.
I'm seeing the same thing in photography anthologies (zines). We all experienced the pandemic (are experiencing the pandemic), and apparently only a few artists have so far managed to communicate the shared ordinary in a way that is original enough to maintain our interest.
Reading an anthology like this is a winnowing, a seining for what is worth keeping.
I'm seeing the same thing in photography anthologies (zines). We all experienced the pandemic (are experiencing the pandemic), and apparently only a few artists have so far managed to communicate the shared ordinary in a way that is original enough to maintain our interest.
Reading an anthology like this is a winnowing, a seining for what is worth keeping.
May 9, 2021
In regards to poetry collections, this is a unique and valuable anthology in that it complies pieces written in direct immediacy and reaction to the COVID-19 pandemic. Also, in regards to the dynamics and quality of any literary collection, this poetry anthology has pieces that resonate as brilliantly observant and astoundingly original, whereas others came off as flat and lacking in their efforts.
Excerpting from each of the outstanding pieces would be deserving, but it would make this review too long, so I’d like to commend the poets who I think contributed the best pieces. Quinn complies the poems alphabetically by poet, so here are the contributors, in alphabetical order, who I think delivered the most memorable poems: Julia Alvarez, Sarah Arvio, Jesse Ball, Rick Barot, George Bilgere, Jericho Brown, Billy Collins, Peter Cooley, Rigoberto Gonzalez, Eliza Griswold, Edward Hirsch, Jane Hirshfield, Sally Wen Mao, Laura Mullen, Sharon Olds, Tommy Orange, Jay Parini, Carl Phillips, Dean Rader, and Claudia Rankine.
With that strong list of excellent poets, it’s a challenge to choose just one piece that I deem most representative of capturing the pandemic, but I’ve decided “Aftermaths” by Tommy Orange deserves recognition as the most profound poem in the collection.
Orange’s entire poem requires attention and needs to be experienced because I think it’s that remarkable, but here are his lines that I feel most honestly capture the cataclysm and devastation of the COVID-19 pandemic: “We will bury the truth of our decadence with the truth of our negligence, with the truth of the lives and deaths of our dead.”
If you read this poetry collection, I recommend turning to Tommy Orange’s “Aftermaths” and experiencing it first before reading the rest and seeing how you feel about his poem in relation to the others. Overall, I recommend this book as a vivid reminder to every one of us about everything we’ve been through as a country and as a world community during the tragedy of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Excerpting from each of the outstanding pieces would be deserving, but it would make this review too long, so I’d like to commend the poets who I think contributed the best pieces. Quinn complies the poems alphabetically by poet, so here are the contributors, in alphabetical order, who I think delivered the most memorable poems: Julia Alvarez, Sarah Arvio, Jesse Ball, Rick Barot, George Bilgere, Jericho Brown, Billy Collins, Peter Cooley, Rigoberto Gonzalez, Eliza Griswold, Edward Hirsch, Jane Hirshfield, Sally Wen Mao, Laura Mullen, Sharon Olds, Tommy Orange, Jay Parini, Carl Phillips, Dean Rader, and Claudia Rankine.
With that strong list of excellent poets, it’s a challenge to choose just one piece that I deem most representative of capturing the pandemic, but I’ve decided “Aftermaths” by Tommy Orange deserves recognition as the most profound poem in the collection.
Orange’s entire poem requires attention and needs to be experienced because I think it’s that remarkable, but here are his lines that I feel most honestly capture the cataclysm and devastation of the COVID-19 pandemic: “We will bury the truth of our decadence with the truth of our negligence, with the truth of the lives and deaths of our dead.”
If you read this poetry collection, I recommend turning to Tommy Orange’s “Aftermaths” and experiencing it first before reading the rest and seeing how you feel about his poem in relation to the others. Overall, I recommend this book as a vivid reminder to every one of us about everything we’ve been through as a country and as a world community during the tragedy of the COVID-19 pandemic.
September 7, 2020
A beautiful collection of poetry inspired by the pandemic; serves as a foundation for much thought.
September 4, 2022
I can't help but feel that five years from now, this will be testimony of this time.
Quotes (unformatted)
"And from day to day there's no certainty of another day though this has always been true." (4)
"we would recite these poems to stay alive." (10)
"what love persists in a time without touch" (13)
"To privilege lust over tomorrow." (27)
"I miss feeling alive." (31)
"How I wish feeling terrible felt useful, as it did when I was a teenager." (34)
"two in an embrace with entangled eyes." (68)
"the human heart, that seat of the possible and the impossible" (78)
"enough of can you see me, can you hear me, enough I am human, enough I am alone and I am desperate...enough sorrow...I am asking you to touch me." (83)
"I was always braver on the page" (84)
"To touch just once, or once more, what has been kept from us—which must be everything we ever wanted." (85)
"they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images" (115)
"even though the cup is twelve feet in diameter, about the same size as my thinking of you this morning." (117)
"some days are simply good. All good. And it's enough: this little life." (122)
"incredible how America can brand even a pandemic" (137)
"smeared on all the stuff we used to live for, especially each other" (138)
"wandering quietly inside myself" (152)
Say, Ahhhh,
and kiss me.
Seal my mouth with your mouth.
Say, Ohhhh,
and kiss me again.
Part my lips with your lips.
Say, Mmmm,
and kiss me once more and longer.
Put your mortal stamp on me.
(79)
Quotes (unformatted)
"And from day to day there's no certainty of another day though this has always been true." (4)
"we would recite these poems to stay alive." (10)
"what love persists in a time without touch" (13)
"To privilege lust over tomorrow." (27)
"I miss feeling alive." (31)
"How I wish feeling terrible felt useful, as it did when I was a teenager." (34)
"two in an embrace with entangled eyes." (68)
"the human heart, that seat of the possible and the impossible" (78)
"enough of can you see me, can you hear me, enough I am human, enough I am alone and I am desperate...enough sorrow...I am asking you to touch me." (83)
"I was always braver on the page" (84)
"To touch just once, or once more, what has been kept from us—which must be everything we ever wanted." (85)
"they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images" (115)
"even though the cup is twelve feet in diameter, about the same size as my thinking of you this morning." (117)
"some days are simply good. All good. And it's enough: this little life." (122)
"incredible how America can brand even a pandemic" (137)
"smeared on all the stuff we used to live for, especially each other" (138)
"wandering quietly inside myself" (152)
Say, Ahhhh,
and kiss me.
Seal my mouth with your mouth.
Say, Ohhhh,
and kiss me again.
Part my lips with your lips.
Say, Mmmm,
and kiss me once more and longer.
Put your mortal stamp on me.
(79)
December 27, 2020
Such a variety of poems and poetry featured. The variety of form, style and perspective are breathtaking. I'm really glad my brother sent it to me as an early Christmas present. Now I'll gift it to several poets I know.
One of my favorites was Susan Mitchell's poem, "The Dance"
which ends:
...we bluffed at meetings as we hid
behind medallions bearing our initials
so no one would know how we'd been strained
to thin gruel, a clear consomme
with no more substance than
images we embraced wildly in dreams--
is it you, is it really you--before
we woke, and remembered who was dead.
One of my favorites was Susan Mitchell's poem, "The Dance"
which ends:
...we bluffed at meetings as we hid
behind medallions bearing our initials
so no one would know how we'd been strained
to thin gruel, a clear consomme
with no more substance than
images we embraced wildly in dreams--
is it you, is it really you--before
we woke, and remembered who was dead.
December 11, 2021
"How will this pandemic affect poetry? Will the lines be six feet apart?"
A collection that starts off quite strong and then peters out a bit - some truly impressive contributors. Glad it was expanded to include poems and reactions in the wake of George Floyd's murder. Favourite selections include Rick Barot's 'from During the Pandemic', Traci Brimhall's 'Plague Diary', and Nicole Cooley's 'At CVS Wearing a Mask I Buy Plastic Easter Eggs for My Daughters'.
A collection that starts off quite strong and then peters out a bit - some truly impressive contributors. Glad it was expanded to include poems and reactions in the wake of George Floyd's murder. Favourite selections include Rick Barot's 'from During the Pandemic', Traci Brimhall's 'Plague Diary', and Nicole Cooley's 'At CVS Wearing a Mask I Buy Plastic Easter Eggs for My Daughters'.
read-in-2020
September 7, 2020There were a few standouts but like most anthologies this was a mixed bag.
“enough of can you see me, can you hear me, enough
I am human, enough I am alone and I am desperate,
enough of the animal saving me, enough of the high
water, enough sorrow, enough of the air and its ease,
I am asking you to touch me.”
— Ada Limón, from “The End of Poetry”
“enough of can you see me, can you hear me, enough
I am human, enough I am alone and I am desperate,
enough of the animal saving me, enough of the high
water, enough sorrow, enough of the air and its ease,
I am asking you to touch me.”
— Ada Limón, from “The End of Poetry”
December 4, 2021
In "Together in a Sudden Strangeness," Alice Quinn has put together an anthology of poems written in response to the COVID-19 pandemic during the COVID-19 pandemic. It's the perfect artistic response to a situation that seems unfathomable. Here you'll find poems that grieve, yearn, mourn, and scream in frustration alongside others that pause, reflect, rejoice, and attempt to hold onto the things that matter. Of course these emotions are applicable even outside of the pandemic, and while some of the poems explicitly address the quarantine, the rising infection and death counts, and the fight for Racial Justice that was happening alongside the lockdown in the US, others seem to transcend the events themselves and see this moment of time in a larger more universally applicable context.
For me, this anthology was lovely because poetry presents an opportunity to read without a huge time commitment or need for extended concentration: things that I have been struggling with since the onset of the pandemic. I enjoyed reading one or a few of these poems and sitting with them before returning to the book a few days or even a few weeks later. Many of these poems functioned as an emotional salve, proof on the page that other people feel what I'm feeling: therein lies the healing power of poetry.
This anthology is for anyone who has lived through this pandemic and is ready to think about it from different perspectives and find a human connection through poetry, at a time when physical connection is often banned, difficult, or dangerous.
Favorites from this collection:
After the Apocalypse -- Ama Codjoe
Poem I wrote after I asked you if cereal can expire -- Catherine Cohen
Weather Heard as Music -- Timothy Donnelly
Cards -- John Freeman
Leaving Evanston -- Deborah Garrison
If the Cure for AIDS, -- Linda Gregerson
Six Months from Patient Zero -- Eliza Griswold
The Future of Everything -- Aleksandar Hemon
April -- Richie Hofmann
Invocation -- Major Jackson
My Heart Cannot Accept It All -- Susan Kingsolving
The End of Poetry -- Ada Limon (**My favorite, favorite of this anthology.**)
Quarantine -- Dave Lucas
An American Nurse Foresees Her Death -- Amit Majmudar
Batshit -- Sally Wen Mao
The Dance -- Susan Mitchell
Storm -- Kamilah Aisha Moon
And the People Stayed Home -- Kitty O'Meara
Gone Washington Square, 2020 -- Grace Schulman
Pandemicon -- Diane Seuss
Under Juncos, the Baby Stones -- Tess Taylor
Naturally -- Rosanna Warren
The Onlookers -- Christian Wiman
A Private Life -- Mark Wunderlich
For me, this anthology was lovely because poetry presents an opportunity to read without a huge time commitment or need for extended concentration: things that I have been struggling with since the onset of the pandemic. I enjoyed reading one or a few of these poems and sitting with them before returning to the book a few days or even a few weeks later. Many of these poems functioned as an emotional salve, proof on the page that other people feel what I'm feeling: therein lies the healing power of poetry.
This anthology is for anyone who has lived through this pandemic and is ready to think about it from different perspectives and find a human connection through poetry, at a time when physical connection is often banned, difficult, or dangerous.
Favorites from this collection:
After the Apocalypse -- Ama Codjoe
Poem I wrote after I asked you if cereal can expire -- Catherine Cohen
Weather Heard as Music -- Timothy Donnelly
Cards -- John Freeman
Leaving Evanston -- Deborah Garrison
If the Cure for AIDS, -- Linda Gregerson
Six Months from Patient Zero -- Eliza Griswold
The Future of Everything -- Aleksandar Hemon
April -- Richie Hofmann
Invocation -- Major Jackson
My Heart Cannot Accept It All -- Susan Kingsolving
The End of Poetry -- Ada Limon (**My favorite, favorite of this anthology.**)
Quarantine -- Dave Lucas
An American Nurse Foresees Her Death -- Amit Majmudar
Batshit -- Sally Wen Mao
The Dance -- Susan Mitchell
Storm -- Kamilah Aisha Moon
And the People Stayed Home -- Kitty O'Meara
Gone Washington Square, 2020 -- Grace Schulman
Pandemicon -- Diane Seuss
Under Juncos, the Baby Stones -- Tess Taylor
Naturally -- Rosanna Warren
The Onlookers -- Christian Wiman
A Private Life -- Mark Wunderlich
January 7, 2021
A solid collection of poetry from 107 different poets, all surrounding their interpretations and ideas of the pandemic. The collection is quite moving, however a lot of the poems were a hit or a miss with me. However I think the most important thing about this collection is its historical implication, and the fact that this will stand as a permanent reminder to this time.
Some of my favourite poems:
Rick Barot, from During the Pandemic
I really liked the excerpts from this poem, as they stood as “observations” of the world and captured the subtleties of the pandemic, the little memories and ideas that grow so much stronger in isolation.
David Biespiel, Men Waiting for a Train
“For a moment, nothing is being celebrated / Nothing undone, or measured, nothing / Moves, or rings, in the air”
Jericho Brown, Say Thank You Say I’m Sorry
This poem is an ode to grocery store workers—and other people working during a pandemic—who have not been able to have a break. It ends with “They have washed their hands / They have washed their hands for you / And they take the bus home”
Catherine Cohen, Poem I wrote after I asked you if cereal can expire
Again, the subtleties, the specifities, the little thoughts of isolation.
Billy Collins, Sequestration
“They sit in seperate rooms / guarding their own lives—/ two pilot lights flickering / where their hearts used to beat.”
Ada Limón, The End of Poetry
“Enough / I am human, enough I am alone / and I am desperate, / enough of the animal saving me, enough of the high / water, enough sorrow, enough of the air and its ease, / I am asking you to touch me.”
Some of my favourite poems:
Rick Barot, from During the Pandemic
I really liked the excerpts from this poem, as they stood as “observations” of the world and captured the subtleties of the pandemic, the little memories and ideas that grow so much stronger in isolation.
David Biespiel, Men Waiting for a Train
“For a moment, nothing is being celebrated / Nothing undone, or measured, nothing / Moves, or rings, in the air”
Jericho Brown, Say Thank You Say I’m Sorry
This poem is an ode to grocery store workers—and other people working during a pandemic—who have not been able to have a break. It ends with “They have washed their hands / They have washed their hands for you / And they take the bus home”
Catherine Cohen, Poem I wrote after I asked you if cereal can expire
Again, the subtleties, the specifities, the little thoughts of isolation.
Billy Collins, Sequestration
“They sit in seperate rooms / guarding their own lives—/ two pilot lights flickering / where their hearts used to beat.”
Ada Limón, The End of Poetry
“Enough / I am human, enough I am alone / and I am desperate, / enough of the animal saving me, enough of the high / water, enough sorrow, enough of the air and its ease, / I am asking you to touch me.”
August 15, 2021
Here we have 100+ poems, seemingly mainly from spring 2020, doing basically what the volume's subtitle indicates.
A lot of really good poems from some really good poets here, but the book has mainly served to remind me of the relief I felt when Alice Quinn stepped down as New Yorker poetry editor.
Given the stylistic spectrum of American poetry, the anthology occupies a rather narrow range, one familiar to anyone who read the poetry in the New Yorker during the Quinn era. These are well-educated, well-behaved poems, mainly in conversational syntax, bundles of ingenuity in the figurative language but rhythmically subdued, quite a few loosely-handled closed forms, lots of poems ending with a little fwip like a Tupperware container for which the right lid has been found.
It's not that I cannot or do not enjoy that sort of thing--but when ninety out of a hundred poems in an anthology are all executing the same set of compulsory exercises (so to speak), they start to blur into each other. I was grateful for the occasional Eileen Myles, Shane McCrae, or Claudia Rankine poem that changed things up a bit.
Not that some of the milder-mannered poems were not excellent. I really enjoyed Susan Kinsolving's "My Heart Cannot Accept It All," for instance. Hats off also to Joshua Bennet, Traci Brimhall, Erin Belieu, Aleksander Hemon, Ada Limón, Matthew Zapruder.
But I found myself wishing Quinn had worked with a co-editor, Cole Swenson perhaps, Jericho Brown, someone who might have wandered farther off the path once in a while.
A lot of really good poems from some really good poets here, but the book has mainly served to remind me of the relief I felt when Alice Quinn stepped down as New Yorker poetry editor.
Given the stylistic spectrum of American poetry, the anthology occupies a rather narrow range, one familiar to anyone who read the poetry in the New Yorker during the Quinn era. These are well-educated, well-behaved poems, mainly in conversational syntax, bundles of ingenuity in the figurative language but rhythmically subdued, quite a few loosely-handled closed forms, lots of poems ending with a little fwip like a Tupperware container for which the right lid has been found.
It's not that I cannot or do not enjoy that sort of thing--but when ninety out of a hundred poems in an anthology are all executing the same set of compulsory exercises (so to speak), they start to blur into each other. I was grateful for the occasional Eileen Myles, Shane McCrae, or Claudia Rankine poem that changed things up a bit.
Not that some of the milder-mannered poems were not excellent. I really enjoyed Susan Kinsolving's "My Heart Cannot Accept It All," for instance. Hats off also to Joshua Bennet, Traci Brimhall, Erin Belieu, Aleksander Hemon, Ada Limón, Matthew Zapruder.
But I found myself wishing Quinn had worked with a co-editor, Cole Swenson perhaps, Jericho Brown, someone who might have wandered farther off the path once in a while.
December 16, 2020
The title Together in a Sudden Strangeness comes from a line in the Pablo Neruda poem “Keeping Quiet” (“a Callarse”), and it’s a little bit magical how that phrase reaches across decades and cultures to speak to this strange pandemic moment in 2020 America. If only we could make poets Senators here and now, too...
The poets and poems in this anthology also speak to our current moment from a hundred different angles, sharing grief, reveling in lockdown slow-down, crying out for justice, offering glimpses into hospital rooms, and otherwise expressing their own small slices of the strangeness. As you might expect, a collection like this, assembled in a single year and including a diverse range of poets, is bound to be a bit of a wild mix. Most of the poems just kind of washed over me, but the ones that did connect with me really, really connected. A few special favorites of mine: “How Will This Pandemic Affect Poetry?” by Julia Alvarez, which plays with lines punctuation in memorable ways; the villanelle “My Heart Cannot Accept It All” by Susan Kinsolving, one of the few formal poems included; “An American Nurse Foresees Her Death” by Amit Majmudar, which offers up p the harrowing experience of a frontline healthcare professional; “Storm” by Kamilah Aisha Moon, a dazzling writer I used to work with at Hallmark; and “Tea for You, Too” by Ron Padgett, which contains the funniest moment in the book.
The poets and poems in this anthology also speak to our current moment from a hundred different angles, sharing grief, reveling in lockdown slow-down, crying out for justice, offering glimpses into hospital rooms, and otherwise expressing their own small slices of the strangeness. As you might expect, a collection like this, assembled in a single year and including a diverse range of poets, is bound to be a bit of a wild mix. Most of the poems just kind of washed over me, but the ones that did connect with me really, really connected. A few special favorites of mine: “How Will This Pandemic Affect Poetry?” by Julia Alvarez, which plays with lines punctuation in memorable ways; the villanelle “My Heart Cannot Accept It All” by Susan Kinsolving, one of the few formal poems included; “An American Nurse Foresees Her Death” by Amit Majmudar, which offers up p the harrowing experience of a frontline healthcare professional; “Storm” by Kamilah Aisha Moon, a dazzling writer I used to work with at Hallmark; and “Tea for You, Too” by Ron Padgett, which contains the funniest moment in the book.
February 18, 2021
Parts of two stanzas from Tommy Orange’s “Aftermath:” “Some of us are already postapocalyptic, so the world can’t end for us any more that it can end, but if it does, if the end is doing its ending, if the world becomes without us…” and “When it does go on and it must, there will be as many aftermaths as there are lives lived, as different from one another as wound from scar, as elegy from effigy. The word aftermath is an old English farming term referring to the grass grown directly after a harvest. There is hope in origin. Quarantine comes from a Latin term meaning forty days. How long has it been and how long will it be and is it the same kind of forty as from the ark and the flood…? (116)
“Weather” by Claudia Rankine “Whatever contracts keep us social compel us now to disorder the disorder. Peace. We’re out to repair the future. There’s an umbrella by the door, not for yesterday but for the weather that is here.” (128)
The poems in this collection were written in two bursts: Most were written in March and April, some were written over the summer about the conjunction of the pandemic and George Floyd/ Breonna Taylor/ Ahmaud Arbery/ Rayshard Brooks and others murders by police. Recommended by Thomas Chulak from the Chatham Bookstore on WAMC’s Book Picks 12/1/20. Borrowed from interlibrary loan.
“Weather” by Claudia Rankine “Whatever contracts keep us social compel us now to disorder the disorder. Peace. We’re out to repair the future. There’s an umbrella by the door, not for yesterday but for the weather that is here.” (128)
The poems in this collection were written in two bursts: Most were written in March and April, some were written over the summer about the conjunction of the pandemic and George Floyd/ Breonna Taylor/ Ahmaud Arbery/ Rayshard Brooks and others murders by police. Recommended by Thomas Chulak from the Chatham Bookstore on WAMC’s Book Picks 12/1/20. Borrowed from interlibrary loan.
October 10, 2024
Quietly heartrending.
Quotable:
My Heart Cannot Accept It All
Forgive yourself for thinking small
for cooking soups, ignoring blight.
The mind cannot contain it all
despite intent and wherewithal;
it's stuff that brings delight:
a book, a drink. Keep thinking small.
A bubble bath? An odd phone call?
(Resisting all those gigabytes!)
Your mind will not embrace it all.
Quarantine is one long haul
as days grow long, so do the nights.
Forgive yourself for thinking small:
popcorn, TV, more alcohol?
There's no need to be contrite.
My mind cannot believe it all,
this vast and shocking viral sprawl,
infections with no end in sight.
Forgive me please. I'm thinking small.
My heart cannot accept it all.
And the People Stayed Home
And the people stayed home.
And they listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some
danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think
differently.
And the people healed.
And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, and
heartless ways, the earth began to heal.
And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again,
they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new
images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they
had been healed.
Quotable:
My Heart Cannot Accept It All
Forgive yourself for thinking small
for cooking soups, ignoring blight.
The mind cannot contain it all
despite intent and wherewithal;
it's stuff that brings delight:
a book, a drink. Keep thinking small.
A bubble bath? An odd phone call?
(Resisting all those gigabytes!)
Your mind will not embrace it all.
Quarantine is one long haul
as days grow long, so do the nights.
Forgive yourself for thinking small:
popcorn, TV, more alcohol?
There's no need to be contrite.
My mind cannot believe it all,
this vast and shocking viral sprawl,
infections with no end in sight.
Forgive me please. I'm thinking small.
My heart cannot accept it all.
And the People Stayed Home
And the people stayed home.
And they listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some
danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think
differently.
And the people healed.
And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, and
heartless ways, the earth began to heal.
And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again,
they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new
images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they
had been healed.
August 20, 2020
I think the best part about this work is it's implied historical significance. This matters now, but it will matter in the future too, when the people alive then are too young or not yet born now. It is a look into the lives and thoughts of these poets right now and the immediacy of this publication is honestly impressive. It is another that I listened to because it looked interesting enough and was available to borrow as an audiobook immediately, so that's what I got. For me personally, I think it is still too soon to listen to these stories, to experience our present through other lenses and hear how others are coping. Because we're not through it yet, and it's just too heavy. I don't think it will be that way for everyone, though. I think listening to or reading these poems could be very cathartic, with the right mindset or right timing. As I'm sure it was for these poets to write them. This is a collection that I can see helping a lot of people work through their feelings about all of *this* and for that I am grateful this exists. I think it's the sort of thing I could turn to again a few or more years from now in a melancholy mood, when some sort of catharsis is needed. But not yet.
May 29, 2021
After a strange and unsettling year, I thought processing 2020 through these poems might help me gain fresh perspective and raise some good questions with which to live into 2021. I got some of what I'd hoped for, but not as much as I expected. I was introduced to some poets I'd not read or heard before, which is always enjoyable.
One of my favorites:
by KITTY O’MEARA
And the People Stayed Home
And the people stayed home.
—
And they listened, and read books, and rested, and exercised,
and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still.
—
And they listened more deeply. Some meditated, some
prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people
began to think differently.
—
And the people healed.
—
And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous,
and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.
—
And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.
One of my favorites:
by KITTY O’MEARA
And the People Stayed Home
And the people stayed home.
—
And they listened, and read books, and rested, and exercised,
and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still.
—
And they listened more deeply. Some meditated, some
prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people
began to think differently.
—
And the people healed.
—
And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous,
and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.
—
And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.
July 15, 2021
This could have been better if it had fewer poems. Halfway through a lot of them felt repetitive, which is expected because they all are a response to March-April 2020, however my favorites pinpoint specific moments while others repeat general facts that everyone knows. I even skipped some because I could tell it was just another poem about something that has been pointed out a few times already.
This would interesting though to reread it in 10, 20 years and reflect. Maybe it’s too soon to read because it’s all I know of the past year.
Here are my notable and favorite poems
Dad poem - Joshua Bennett
FaceTime - George Bilgere
Say Thank you Say I’m Sorry - Jericho Brown
Poem I wrote after I asked you if cereal can expire - Catherine Cohen
I See on Zoom He’s Growing Taller by the Day - Elizabeth J. Coleman
At CVS Wearing a Mask I buy plastic Easter Eggs for my Daughters - Nicole Cooley
Sheltering in Place - Peter Cooley
Cards - John Freeman
Invocation- Major Jackson
The End of Poetry - Ada Limón
Vallejo - Tomás Morín
Two Days in March - John Okrent
Quarantine - Patrick Phillips
Onlookers - Christian Wiman
This would interesting though to reread it in 10, 20 years and reflect. Maybe it’s too soon to read because it’s all I know of the past year.
Here are my notable and favorite poems
Dad poem - Joshua Bennett
FaceTime - George Bilgere
Say Thank you Say I’m Sorry - Jericho Brown
Poem I wrote after I asked you if cereal can expire - Catherine Cohen
I See on Zoom He’s Growing Taller by the Day - Elizabeth J. Coleman
At CVS Wearing a Mask I buy plastic Easter Eggs for my Daughters - Nicole Cooley
Sheltering in Place - Peter Cooley
Cards - John Freeman
Invocation- Major Jackson
The End of Poetry - Ada Limón
Vallejo - Tomás Morín
Two Days in March - John Okrent
Quarantine - Patrick Phillips
Onlookers - Christian Wiman
January 17, 2021
I felt a little late to the game with this release, or that this was published too early along in our collective experience with the pandemic that the works seem “dated”. Now as we are crossing the 400,000 death toll mark (with many more to come), I feel like this collection was the tip of the iceberg of frustrations we have come to realize. At this point, and this is just my take at this moment, I am so sick of writings on the pandemic that I think it will be some time (5+ years away from “now”) for us to have the best perspective on what happened. For now, it’s jottings of people irritated with mask wearing and a world of extroverts foaming at the mouth to be around others “soon”. This was a mixed bag of writings, some interesting, and many not, but it was just too soon out the gate for this kind of collection.
January 2, 2022
Very fantastic collection of poetry from a wide range and diverse selection of poets. You’ll hear experiences about grief, loss, loneliness, love, so so so much of all the feelings we’ve felt going through this pandemic. Some authors touch upon their experience as living as Asian-American and how they experienced racism during the pandemic, and it’s heartbreaking but important to hear their stories and what they went through for just existing with us. One of my favorite poems, “Batshit,” deals with this. There’s also discussion of the Black Lives Matter movement and how we’re affected by that. The collection was published in 2020 and we’re now entering the third year of the pandemic. I’m so curious to hear what these poets would have to say about the pandemic now. Overall, great read and the poems were complex while still being understandable by me, an unskilled poetry reader :)
October 27, 2023
"There is only one life. How long will I hold mine like water in cupped hands?"
- D. Nurkse
As a millennial, the breakdown of my hope for the future has been punctuated by 9/11, the 2008 recession, the election of a far-right bigot, and the pandemic.
I admit to a deep and incurable naivety. As Evie Shockley writes in her poem "an inoculation against innocence": "i just hope something positive will come out of all this, we're going to change, right? change? change, utterly?"
No, we will not. But that's enough lamentation. The book is a very solid collection of poems. So that's a good thing.
So here we are, having lost our goddamn minds -- those of us who didn't lose our lives. What horrors might the future hold? What new pandemic of violence or bigotry will our dying empire experience?
No one is coming to save us.
- D. Nurkse
As a millennial, the breakdown of my hope for the future has been punctuated by 9/11, the 2008 recession, the election of a far-right bigot, and the pandemic.
I admit to a deep and incurable naivety. As Evie Shockley writes in her poem "an inoculation against innocence": "i just hope something positive will come out of all this, we're going to change, right? change? change, utterly?"
No, we will not. But that's enough lamentation. The book is a very solid collection of poems. So that's a good thing.
So here we are, having lost our goddamn minds -- those of us who didn't lose our lives. What horrors might the future hold? What new pandemic of violence or bigotry will our dying empire experience?
No one is coming to save us.
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