Lori Howe
In every season, life on America’s high plains is at once harsh and beautiful, liberating and isolated, welcoming and unforgiving. The poems of Cloudshade take us through those seasons, swinging wide a glassless window to life in the West--to antelope flowing seamless over dirt roads, boom and bust ghost towns, deep, glacial lakes ringed with glowing aspen trees, ice fishing by the Northern Lights, and as in “High Plains Solstice,” live music on summer nights thatcarves hot petals through our bodiesin its ritual of tidesand light;licks us open from the insideuntil we are night-blooming jasmineseduced by the moon.Cloudshade is a book for everyone, from poetry lovers to those who don’t usually read poems. If you’ve ever waited through five or six months of winter for the first signs of spring, stood outside to feel the first, long-awaited summer rains, caught the wood-smoke and cottonwood scent of fall, or stood on a frozen lake, listening to winter rumbling and heaving through the ice, these poems will carry you back to what is elemental and haunting about life on the high plains, as in “On the Ice,” whereWe wait, silent, hearing with our feetthe seething of ultramarine blood,the twitching of bones,rumbles of omensand restless spirits.The ice stretches and heaves,cracking like gunshot, and beneath that, glints and gleamingsof sound, like whalescalling across the darkness.In the poetic tradition of James Wright and B.H. Fairchild, these poems are rooted in the mercies of daily life, illuminating the intersections between our own internal landscapes and those that surround us. Howe offers a fleeting portrait of that intersection in the poem, “En Route to My Father’s Funeral”At a pale crossroads,in an open shop two floors up,a welder works into the night.His arc is lonesome in the cool air,gobbets of firelike unformed angelsfalling.Whether you live on the high plains or it lives in your memory, the poems of Cloudshade, like the first summer rain, bring the sounds, scents, and the vividness of life back to us, whole.
