The polished poems in Dave Malone’s Tornado Drillspin readers from Kansas arroyos and Ozark lakes to sodden Paris side streets and back again. Along the way there are surprising glimpses through neighborhood windows and into manicured back yards, but no matter the setting, Malone’s true terrain is the human heart. Tornado Drill contains humor to balance grief, mystique to dress and attend memory, and spirit to animate craft. Without question, it is his finest book to date. —C.D. Albin, author of Missouri Author Award’s Hard Toward Home Don’t let the title fool you, this is no drill. There is real danger here—its undercurrent felt in every precise image, its power, palpable. Through tightly crafted, yet expansive portraits, glimpses, and moments, Dave Malone’s Tornado Drillinvites us into a whole community of loss, desire, and want. You cannot help but be pulled into this vortex, astonished by the beauty and possibility you will discover here. —Amy Ash, author of The Open Mouth of the Vase
Dave Malone is a poet and playwright from the Missouri Ozarks. A three-time Pushcart nominee, he is the author of eight collections of poetry, most recently Bypass (Aldrich Press, 2023). His work has been featured on NPR and appeared in Midwest Review, San Pedro River Review, and Red Rock Review. He offers a free monthly newsletter at davemalone.net. He can also be found on TikTok.
Disclaimer: It is so hard for me to rate poetry books! I read a collection every month, and each one has some things I like, some things I bounce off, and some that change my life. This is one I hope lovers of language check out!
I want to teach a workshop on this book! It's one where the poems worked on me gradually. I'd read a poem once, wonder about it, then read it again, gain understanding, then read it a third time and marvel. That happened over and over again.
The way Malone used images has stuck with me. I stripped the sheets yesterday and looked at my mattress in a different way. Same with that bolt of cloth I don't know what to do with. And my old dog, sleeping away yet another day—now I know she "is interested / in living, which is sleeping."