Shanna Compton’s most recent book is Creature Sounds Fade, published by Black Lawrence Press in November 2020. She is also the author of Brink (Bloof, 2013), For Girls Other Poems (Bloof, 2008), Down Spooky (Open Book Award Winner, Winnow, 2005), and several chapbooks. Her poetry and essays are widely published, appearing in Best American Poetry, the Nation, American Poetry Review, McSweeney’s, the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day series, and elsewhere.
Shanna works as a book designer for independent authors and small presses, and creates visual art as a printmaker and collagist. She lives on the Delaware River in Lambertville, New Jersey.
Because "father never did possess/any ecclesiastical spacecraft," I keep wondering at the algebra behind Compton's jiffy rockets, where home is the orbit you're leaving but with the fridge half-cracked for summer guests.
very unique voice. compton does strange things with words. strange is good. it is almost a dialectic feel hovering in the past of the now. i read 'for girls' before this book, her first, now I can see I need to read them both again, in order. i want to understand her mind and how it navigates language. she often has very surprising turns of the end couplets, which i also admire.
"Mamaw caught the dishwater to rinse the okra patch. Her knotty cypress knees kneading troweled soil. Her handkerchief so Boraxed, so lavendered. Her hymn ever- so baptized, so spring-fed. Sleep Mamaw. We're singing now. Your bread bags are folded in every kitchen drawer."
I loved this collection. Compton's writing reminds me of waves- each phrase has its own impact while also being somehow tied to the phrases around it, propelling them as well. The book builds up steam as it goes... By about one-third of the way through I was hooked!