My husband is learning to draw
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These poems speak to us like a best friend will over a reasonably priced brunch, and we've all got a little less serotonin than we need, so if we hear the perfect combination of words before the eggs arrive, we'll cry right there in front of the whole gorgeous, horrible earth. And these poems are the perfect combination of words. Morgan's voice is that of a friend we know we don't deserve, but desperately, unabashedly adore. -Patrick Whitfill These poems are rapid-pulsed and expansive, littered with art, grit, belly and loss. They're also about the tight little worlds we make between each othe...
These poems speak to us like a best friend will over a reasonably priced brunch, and we've all got a little less serotonin than we need, so if we hear the perfect combination of words before the eggs arrive, we'll cry right there in front of the whole gorgeous, horrible earth. And these poems are the perfect combination of words. Morgan's voice is that of a friend we know we don't deserve, but desperately, unabashedly adore. -Patrick Whitfill These poems are rapid-pulsed and expansive, littered with art, grit, belly and loss. They're also about the tight little worlds we make between each other-shaded and crosshatched, valued such they hold everything you'll ever need. -Ashley Warlick My Husband is Learning to Draw reminds us that upheaval precedes creation. Like kintsugi, these poems embrace breakage, and Mamie Morgan's lyric voice - generous, nimble, and illimitable - is the gold. To read Morgan is to be cracked open and then repaired: "half filled with sand, half somehow filled with delight." -Kirby Knowlton
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