Trees of the Twentieth Century by Stephen Sturgeon
Dark Sky Books, 66 pages, $10
I read Sturgeon’s poems like I look at trees today, holy mackerel their growth! and how lovely they intersect with the ground, but oh too easy sometimes to dismiss them as something past, but but oh I say oh I’ll look at them a little longer, listen to the crackle within, pay attention to the shadows they leave because I keep finding something spooky, like eyes in the bark (“When we began to think/of this man and his various ways/we had no more use for the world”), or something neat, like a stickbug (“A man tracked a curtain rod that blazed through a forest,/and as he furiously traveled, with him there went//the hair of Jesus’ head inching along, a river of skulls a black girl swam”), that keeps me wandering around, fascinated.
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