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Today's poem is "They Have a Point"
from The Declarable Future

The University of Wisconsin Press

Jennifer Boyden’s first book, The Mouths of Grazing Things, won the Brittingham Prize in Poetry in 2010. Her work has appeared in Folio, Orion, Gettysburg Review, and The Beloit Poetry Journal, among others. She is a recipient of a PEN Northwest Wilderness Writing Residency and lives on the Oregon coast.

Books by Jennifer Boyden:

Other poems on the web by Jennifer Boyden:
"Vandals"
“Orectic”
“Inside This Next Vase, Likely”
“The Misunderstanding of Wool”

Jennifer Boyden's Website.

Jennifer Boyden According to Wikipedia.

About The Declarable Future:

"I can’t remember a recent book so inhabited by a spirit of unease about where we find ourselves now. ‘Always in search of the voices,’ Jennifer Boyden writes, and I can feel her probing for a way to give shape, less to a catalog of our social and spiritual predicaments than the mood of our times. ‘The god of no ears. /The god of why bother, of make it stop’ suggests both her assessment and her method—her poems don't describe so much as embody this disquiet. This is a wise book by a talented poet."
—Bob Hicok

"From the crystal doorknob transmitters that open The Declarable Future to the last will of the lost man that closes it, I was utterly captivated by the power of Jennifer Boyden’s parallel world—a timely, disquieting parable for the broken one in which we live. Her lost man, like Z. Herbert’s Mr. Cogito, becomes an alter ego who inhabits and interprets our current predicament. Her colloquial language is lucid, metaphorically inventive, constantly surprising—a rare blend of the piquant and the quietly tragic."
—Eleanor Wilner

"In The Declarable Future the lost man explores an eerily strange town, which gradually and chillingly comes to resemble my own. Here recent scientific breakthroughs collide with intimate family life, ethereality with the quotidian, and, when we least expect it, the theoretical plane drops off suddenly into the abyss of the too, too real. In these poems of pith and sizzle, ‘Love [is] finding fleas in the fur of our sisters.’ Sisters, you may believe it."
—Nance Van Winckel



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