The Seeds

"These poems are dark, lavish, far-reaching and subtly layered, making a harsh and rich mirror of the pastoral and the domestic. Cecily Parks reckons with the compromises that every life demands, that motherhood and art demand, that a country where violence and cruelty are suddenly triumphant require: “now I think of hope// as a swing chained to a branch.” This book is a strange delight, a feast of grief and determined celebration. A fallen world that is this lovingly observed must be at least somewhat redeemed."