Arrows
Poetry. Dan Beachy-Quick's ARROWS rests in the palm of the hand like a shard of ancient pottery, caressing antiquity into the present, reminding us of the impossibility of separating ourselves from outdated ways of knowing. Here, in increments, we are enchanted by the humming of bees and the vibrating strings of lyre and bow. Arrows, eros, a rose: a hidden homonym impels these poems, just as those echoes enfold the overlaps of meanings they are helpless to tease apart. 'Word by word the voice works in what it wishes, ' the poet writes. Through the winging and winding of violence, love and beauty, these poems pull and elongate various forms of harm. Yet, a shadow question haunts the book: Might some means of recovery be borne out of harm itself? Poems of desire and hurt, care and prayer answer in the affirmative, turning wound into song. In other words, within these covers, something entirely new and miraculous is offered the reader.
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