Rebecca Aronson is the author of three books of poetry: Anchor; Ghost Child of the Atalanta Bloom, winner of the 2016 Orison Books poetry prize and winner of the 2019 Margaret Randall Book Award from the Albuquerque Museum Foundation; and Creature, Creature, winner of the Main-Traveled Roads Poetry Prize. She has been a recipient of a Prairie Schooner Strousse Award, the Loft's Speakeasy Poetry Prize, and a Tennessee Williams Scholarship to Sewanee. She has poems forthcoming in The Laurel Review, In the Tempered Dark: Contemporary Poets Transcending Elegy, Crosswinds, and others. She is co-founder and host of Bad Mouth, a series of words and music. She lives in Albuquerque with her husband, teenage son, and a very demanding cat.

Other poems by Rebecca Aronson in Verse Daily:
November 12, 2019:   "Fire Country" "Because the sky burned, I had to unhinge..."
April 4, 2017:   "Parking Lot, Pre-Dawn" "The only light this hour..."
April 29, 2014:   "[While I—Breathless...]" "While I—Breathless..."
December 9, 2007:   "Domain, Wednesday" "The arc of sound firing into the morning, each volley broken in the..."
September 16, 2007:   "Missouri" " Near Saint Joseph the fields sigh and corn stands up..."
January 9, 2005:  "Love Poem" "Mark the tree of veins that arch and gather, send..."

Books by Rebecca Aronson:

Other poems on the web by Rebecca Aronson:
"I Was the Girl Who Set the Field on Fire"
Three poems
Two poems
Five poems
"San Stefano"
"Shadow"
"Caged Hare"
"Dear Gravity,"
"Prayer Written on a Wide Veranda on a Comfortable Couch in Sewanee, TN"
"Wish"
"Inside the Well"
"Shadow"
"I Was the Girl Who Set the Field on Fire"
"Road Map"
"Gift"

Rebecca Aronson's Website.

About Anchor:

"Rebecca Aronson's incredible new collection is full of verve and a syntax of ecstatic vocabulary. Whether it's through abecedarians or epistles to gravity, Aronson's poems carry the weight of a life, its pressures, its miraculous brevity. Anchor is a balm against grief. These poems face off against loss with 'Technicolor blooming and bird riot,' and every line hums with urgency."
—Traci Brimhall

"We know from Newton, who named it, that gravity is the force of attraction drawing bodies together. Etymologically, it shares itself with gravid and grave—beginning and end. In Anchor, Aronson has given us both the metaphor and the ballast: the harbor from which we venture into our lives on Earth, and the commonality of death that returns us to the earth. With a languid, meditative syntax reminiscent of Virginia Woolf—and an eye for detail equally sensuous and lethal—Aronson has achieved an intimate and artful collection about loss and the inevitable cycles of ebb and flow experienced by every life."
—Kathy Fagan

"In her splendid third collection of poems, Rebecca Aronson writes of the degeneration and death of her parents. The darknesses of the subjects, however, are magicked into beautiful balance in a stunning juggling act which holds opposite forces spinning and gleaming in the empty air—gravity and flight, body and spirit, absence and presence, love and grief. Aronson devises exquisite metaphors on every page to illustrate the tensions it is our human lot to suffer. Gravity itself is a wonderfully personified character in these pagesit loves the dying father, is jealous of other forces that vie for his body, is a class bully here, an ally of the moon there. The poems here are graceful, wildly gorgeous, enriched by Aronson's vivid animation of earthly and heavenly forces—wind, sand, fire, air, sky, stars. The relative slimness of this volume belies the genuine gravity of the enormous beauties, wonders, and surprises within it."
—Sidney Wade