Burnt Island: Poems

by D. Nurkse

D. Nurkse’s Burnt Island explores tragedy both grand and intimate, in city and country, in our own troubled moment and across the greater scope of geological time. Arranged in three “suites” of lucid, often heart-wrenching verse, the book begins with a city under siege, in a group of poems that becomes a subtle homage to New York after 9/11–a metaphorical “burnt island,” where diggers doze on their shovels, citizens contribute bottles of water, M&M’s, and casseroles to recovery efforts, and survivors, mesmerized by the photos of the missing, compare them “scar by scar with the faces of the living.” Nurkse then takes up the journey of a couple starting again in nature at a specific place called Burnt Island, where the elements instruct them, seeming to mirror their conflicts and strife. Finally, in a charming and profound series of poems centered on marine ecology, he finds the infinite in the infinitesimally small, and offers us, in sparkling, mysterious verses, the strange comfort that comes with observing the life of the ocean.

we are like you
because we are born by the billions
and float into the open ocean–
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
we live another second
or much less, less than a blink,

until the code comes to know itself
and the mind dreams another mind
that will survive it
there, in the bright curtain of spray.

(from “The Granite Coast”)

Genres: Poetry

129 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2005

About the author

D. (Dennis) Nurkse is the author of eight books of poetry. He has received the Whiting Writers’ Award, two National Endowment for the Arts fellowships, two grants from the New York State Foundation for the Arts, and other awards. He has also written widely on human rights.

Reviews

[Glenn · Rating 4 out of 5]

The poems in D. Nurkse's “Burnt Island” give us an acute sense of the separateness of fellow travelers, whether they are family or perfect strangers in the midst of shared disaster, shared experience of any kind. He gets how people absorb the feelings and emotions of others, how indelibly we are imprinted by those around us, those who have come before us, and how we will affect the people who come after us, and the places we inhabit today. In his poems of devastation, whether man-made or natural, which include some of the most moving and harrowing 9/11 poems I've read, he manages the exact right balance of poetic distance and human engagement. The language is vivid with both violence and beauty in the words. Throughout, he has the ability to communicate seemingly unbearable pain, yet make the reader want more.

Despite desolation and melancholy, he finds wonder; his work is always sensual no matter how abstract his images may get, the poems remain rooted in the senses. Dennis places us in the moment, using the sound of words as much as literal meaning.

The poems in “Burnt Island” show that no matter how evolved we think we are, we are very near to the smallest creature, the most basic plant life. And how, reckoning that, we may become enriched, aware of the fragility of existence and more connected to the essence of our own being.

[Tricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

i am so impressed with this book. the timeless lyricism was to be expected from a man with that sort of mustache, but i am always delighted with it's moments of unexpected humor. i think mr.peanut the dog would recommend reading this book with plantains, sweetly fried.

[Gerry LaFemina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just reread this book after seeing Dennis read a few weeks back--beautiful haunting lyric poems, many engaging the biological sciences and using its language. Risky, musically vibrant, smart (so smart) and wish, this book is beautiful.

[Matt Graupman · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’m not a big poetry reader so perhaps I’m not the most qualified person to review this lovely - but inscrutable- collection of poems by D. Nurkse. That said, I know what I like and I liked the pieces in this book quite a bit. Nurkse has a simple, lyrical style and the suites in this volume build on one another organically, like a tide building up deposits of sand. Themes of destruction, reconstruction, separation, and defensiveness intertwine naturally, and Nurkse manages to wring some really delicate and beautiful feelings from some very technical and scientific phrases. I may not have a formal grasp of what makes “good poetry” but “Burnt Island” kept me captivated (and slightly bewildered) from beginning to end.

FAVORITES (I tend to prefer more straightforward poems to obtuse ones so that preference definitely informed these picks):

“Ruth” - A rumination on the photograph of a woman on a missing persons poster.
“Searchers” - A heartbreaker about search-and-rescue dogs becoming depressed when they can’t locate any survivors.
“Home” - A piece about bringing a newborn baby home.

[Mado]

I shouldn’t read poetry this quickly

[Autumn · Rating 4 out of 5]

the facial hair tug.