Publisher's Synopsis
In lyric sequences that record a lover's dreams and a dreamer's loves, I'm here to learn to dream in your language extends H. L. Hix's ongoing poetic inquiry into spiritual and sexual ecstasy.
That house that season was inhabited,
though I was not. That house that year was not haunted, but I was.
The creek tendered cattails, pebbles, turtles.
The cattails issued redwings and also lent their raspy voice
to the breeze the blackbirds animated.
H. L. Hix lives with the poet Kate Northrop in the mountain west, in an 1880s railroad house, writing in a studio that once was a barn.
