The etymology of the word "warp" is constantly at play in Laura Bylenok's new collection of poems, though the word almost never appears. Warp becomes an agent of the change that is central to existence, projecting through space and laying on hands. Bylenok weaves iterations of warp's definitions through her verses like a wave, a particle, a distortion, a sigh. "I want to feel a thing, to feel / myself turn over in my fingers, / turn over in my hands / of salt, my mouth of salt." Never obvious, Bylenok's imagery and sounds linger. "Your signature will cover me, an x / I carry in my eyes, and on my tongue / a sip of scotch about to vaporize." Bylenok writes important poems grounded in physicality, finding the divine in the ordinary. "In the church, I always saw her, / absentminded, touch her own hands / as if to touch something under the skin."
About the Author
Laura Bylenok is from Seattle, and holds degrees from the University of Washington and the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University. Her chapbook "a/0" was published by New Michigan Press in 2014, and her poetry can be found in "Pleiades," "North American Review," "Guernica," "Cimarron Review," and "West Branch," among other journals. She is currently a Vice Presidential Fellow at the University of Utah, where she is pursuing a PhD in creative writing. She lives in Salt Lake City.