Chronic: Poems

so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness that easily fall among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind

—from "no picnic"

In these brilliant poems from one of contemporary poetry's most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, "blossom blast and dieba...