Susan Gardner writes “with no other proof but memory.”
She urges us
“take one breath,
then one more.”
Susan takes us by the throat to Toronto Island, Montserrat, the New York Library, a hospital, into seemingly veiled poems that leave haunting images for us to reinterpret, to meditate upon. These are poems for the poet-breath within us. One reading, one long breath is not enough. Within Susan Gardner’s writing is the deep breath we take at the end of the book that says, I have heard the roar of a poet responding to the love and pain in a private, felt world.
As a fellow poet, I am revived by this gathering of penetrating tenderness.
– James McGrath, author of At the Edgelessness of Light, Dreaming invisible Voices and Speaking With Magpies
Susan Gardner’s spare but urgent collection of poems, To Inhabit the Felt World, is “the roar of alive”
I don’t believe I have ever read lines of such ferocity, honesty and pain. Yet Gardner continues, observes, listens, “fog drips on a forest mouse/ somewhere near a song.” grows, creates,
Hand circles inside black boundary,
water reflects from black surface
marbles over inkstone
slowly, slowly readies itself for the brush.
And she opens herself to pasiion, “ the body of one/ raging with joy/ against the surface of the other.” “Not the thickness of a thread is between us… nothing between us but this hour.”
To Inhabit the Felt World is a remarkable collection by a remarkable poet/panter/photographer. – Elizabeth Raby, poet, author of INK ON SNOW