What do you think?
Rate this book
Native Species
In his sixth book of poetry, Todd Davis, who Harvard Review declares is “unflinchingly candid and enduringly compassionate,” confesses that “it’s hard to hide my love for the pleasures of the earth.” In poems both achingly real and stunningly new, he ushers the reader into a consideration of the green world and our uncertain place in it. As he writes in “Dead Letter to James Wright,” “You said / you’d wasted your life. / I’m still not sure / what species I am.” To that end, Native Species explores what happens to us—to all of us, bear, deer, mink, trout, moose, girl, boy, woman, man—when we die, and what happens to the soul as it faces extinction—if it “migrates into the lives of other creatures, becomes a fox or frog, an ant in a colony serving a queen, a red salamander entering a pond before it freezes.” He wonders, too, “How many new beginnings are we granted?” It’s a beautiful question, and it freights, simultaneously, possibility and pain. These are the verses of a poet maturing into a new level of thinking, full of tenderness and love for the home that carries us all.
110 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 2019
1 person is currently reading
48 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
January 10, 2020
Ruth and I read poems aloud to one another after meals, and this collection is one of our recent favorites. Todd Davis writes lucidly and poignantly about the woods, streams, valleys, and wild creatures of Pennsylvania, about family, about love and loss, about grace. Ruth and I enjoy his work all the more because we've become friends with his son, Noah, who is a fine poet in his own right.
December 27, 2018
Once again, Davis has written a stunning collection of poetry that links together the natural world, family, and the political climate. These poems are always emotional powerhouses and focused on the specific, beautiful details of our world.
May 19, 2020
A gorgeous collection of poems, many that I was inspired to read multiple times. Davis hearkened a world that I knew yet was so out of touch with; my grandparents farm as a child; people who live close to and in harmony with the natural world and with a keen eye for observation and deeply felt experience.
The title poem, Native Species, was extraordinary. I read it once and thought I didn't understand; read it again and gasped because I did understand; read it again and wept. I won't even explain because I couldn't do it justice.
But a few lines from The Rain that Holds Light in the Trees:
My father, who was younger than I am today, was afraid
I might step on a copperhead as we picked blackberries
for the batter my mother poured into a greasy skillet, flour
butter-crisped like gold leaf. Along the banks where the last
of the river water is frozen, holding out against its own passing
and the water's rising, our tracks washing away. Ravens
and crows fall to the field just beyond tree line, eating remnants
of last year's corn, then fly to the tallest branches
where clouds gather, bringing with them the rain
that holds light in the trees.
The title poem, Native Species, was extraordinary. I read it once and thought I didn't understand; read it again and gasped because I did understand; read it again and wept. I won't even explain because I couldn't do it justice.
But a few lines from The Rain that Holds Light in the Trees:
My father, who was younger than I am today, was afraid
I might step on a copperhead as we picked blackberries
for the batter my mother poured into a greasy skillet, flour
butter-crisped like gold leaf. Along the banks where the last
of the river water is frozen, holding out against its own passing
and the water's rising, our tracks washing away. Ravens
and crows fall to the field just beyond tree line, eating remnants
of last year's corn, then fly to the tallest branches
where clouds gather, bringing with them the rain
that holds light in the trees.
January 25, 2020
Sensual and fantastic. The title poem is my body and my body is the earth.
September 18, 2020
Todd Davis writing reminds us why we need poetry. Not to exclaim but to reveal...the heart of being alive. He holds life close with all its blemishes and beauty marks. His work sustains us as does his heartfelt closeness to nature, human and native wild.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews