Today's poem is "Sufficiency"
from The Firestorm

Cleveland State University Poetry Center

Zach Savich is the author of three books of poetry, Full Catastrophe Living (2009), Annulments (2010), and The Firestorm (2011), as well as a chapbook, The Man Who Lost His Head (2010), and a book of creative nonfiction on art and the imagination, Events Film Cannot Withstand, that is forthcoming from Rescue+Press. He has won the Iowa Poetry Prize, the Colorado Prize for Poetry, Omnidawn Press’Chapbook Competition, and the Cleveland State University Poetry Center’s Open Competition. His poems, essays, and reviews appear widely in journals such as A Public Space, Denver Quarterly, and Gulf Coast. He serves as book review editor with The Kenyon Review.

Other poems by Zach Savich in Verse Daily:
May 24, 2010:   "Popular Songs About Feeling Bad" "That was the year I ended marriages. I don't know why..."

Books by Zach Savich:

Other poems on the web by Zach Savich:
Two poems
Three poems
"Fossil, Snorkle, and Cold Blood"

About The Firestorm:

"What do you get when the instructions call for apples, leaves, rivers, cities, eggs, black-eyed lazy susans and a desire exceeding imagining? You get to inhabit the world only Zach Savich's exceedingly intelligent and shapely poems have conjured up for us. I love this book, I love having poetry taking this good care of my brain."
—Dara Wier

"Take Zach Savich’s The Firestorm as one proof of Emerson’s assertion that the mind’s nature is volcanic. A firestorm is such a conflagration that it produces above it its own atmosphere. And so a reader finds in Savich’s pages a super-heated cloud in which the poet’s voice grows multiple, grows active, and the poem records the intimate collisions of lines that veer from prophecy to aphorism to ribald wit to stoic speculation. If this sounds nebulous, it is not. It is fulgurative, lightning-like, shot through sudden flashes of experience that in the sudden afterglow reveal that experience also experiences itself. Such is the complicated place where wit turns witness, and in doing so, opens up the deeper ironies—ironies that at first glance seem quite plain: 'I have forgotten if I am pulling the curtain open or closed.' Savich pulls the curtain open and closed, showing us again poetry’s paradoxical necessity: that the poem must show and hide at once, reveal and obscure simultaneously, and that a song that thinks makes of its melody a matter that matters."
—Dan Beachy-Quick

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