In raw, lyrical poems, Host explores parasitic relationships-between men and women, sons and mothers, and humans and the Earth-and considers their consequences. Throughout this collection, flukes abound, both chance occurrences and flatworms changing their hosts' behavior. How much control do we have over our lives? To what extent are we being controlled? And how much does it matter in the end? Revealing the unvarnished pain of mistreatment-whether inflicted maliciously or accidentally-Lisa Fay Coutley examines legacies of abuse in poems that explore how trauma parasitizes bodies, infecting the text, repeating in language and image the injuries the body has been subjected to. How can people heal from intergenerational trauma-and how can humans mend themselves when they live on a planet they abuse daily? Ask me why light can pour warm through a cold bay window while water under sun is dark as a closed door. A man's hand erases a girl's thigh. The trees start starving themselves into everyone's favorite color. Her darkest room digs itself below her throne. The body knows no wrong move. The more love, the more. -Excerpt from "Oubliette"
Lisa Fay Coutley is the author of tether; Errata, winner of the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry Open Competition; In the Carnival of Breathing, winner of the Black River Chapbook Competition; and Small Girl: Micromemoirs; and the editor of the grief anthology In the Tempered Dark: Contemporary Poets Transcending Elegy. She is the recipient of an NEA Literature Fellowship; an Academy of American Poets Larry Levis Memorial Poetry Prize, chosen by Dana Levin; and a Gulf Coast Poetry Prize, selected by Natalie Diaz. She is an associate professor of poetry and creative nonfiction in the Writer's Workshop at the University of Nebraska at Omaha.
Independence Day Why to Save the World Anxiety Synthetic Love Rootbound Learning Not to Want A Son Might Say To the Friend Who Sent Me Goodwill Forks as a Gift Blocked Sunflowers 2020 The Killing Game What of the Mother Parasitism for Dummies Unpopular Opinion Game: A Pantheist's Approach to Revelations Letter to the Aftermath September 1, 2019 (i-iv) * * " " (v-vii) Crown Oubliette Psychodrama I: Middle-Aged Mother & Adult Son on Mount Baldy Dear First Love- Reversion Holocene Sonnet Guy & Realdoll ACOA Questionnaire If You Just Remember the Good Times In Love, Fridays are Best Spent Watching the Discovery Channel Love Apology Where the Bottom Dropped Out The Trying What Burning We Are, What Water We Want Sheltering in Place, As Vulture Letter to November 3, 2020 Why to Feel the Host Notes Acknowledgments
"Coutley's riveting new collection spirals around the complexities of host as multitude or throng, host as spiritual sustenance, host as living organism upon which a parasite lives. These poems, dazzling in their heartbreak, slice themselves open along the razor's edge of risk and tenderness. Here, patriarchal violence and the desire to subjugate women are paralleled by the deliberate ecocide of the Anthropocene. Here, the desires and impossibilities of nurturing are pitted against the desires and impossibilities of the synthetic object. These are unforgettable, achingly gorgeous, sunflower-studded poems that 'scream for a brightness none of us can hold.'"-Lee Ann Roripaugh, author of Tsunami vs. the Fukushima 50 "Host-what does it mean? This is the crucial question of Lisa Fay Coutley's searing new collection of poetry. What is it to be a mother hosting sons, especially in a nation in the grip of patriarchal rage? To have a female body forced to host violence and trauma? To be part of the human host destroying our host, the earth? These are deeply lived and deeply felt questions for Coutley, who brings them under her fierce gaze and writes them into poems of great candor and power."-Dana Levin, author of Now Do You Know Where You Are "Part elegy to the Anthropocene, part case study of internet-era loneliness, the metaphorical relationships woven throughout Host's poignant, timely, and necessary poems are many: mother host to son, woman host to patriarchy, flower host to human pleasure, Earth host to people's waste. Among these layered threats to the body and the planet, there's a plea for repair, for reclamation, as one speaker asks, 'did you hear me / agree to be an island?' Here we have a poet at the height of her craft, skillfully rendering the essential dispatches we all need to hear."-Trey Moody, author of Autoblivion "Coutley's Host pushes Rilke's closures to new ones: to the edges of the contemplative and fervent: 'Would you change your life if you knew / corn growing sounds like a limb slipping / through a sleeve?' Coutley drops us into the most deft, poignant, and serious stakes to see our contemporary lives clearly, succumbing to the attentive as a possible way through. Inside a human 'constant state of ache' is her astute lyric that crafts the many selves one can have inside an image. In this is a valiant pursuit of an ominous present-state and afterlife for the human, the Earth, and the forgone retrievals that carry and haunt: 'Body of our bodies, we are becoming / strangers.' Here in the poem 'Why to Save the World,' we learn how estrangement is at the center of our burning questions. Host is full of these important insights and Coutley anchors us with a dictum that can become a refrain: 'When trying to change the world, / go that bold.' This collection insists on it, to which I am grateful for the luminosity in her and in these pages."-Prageeta Sharma, author of Grief Sequence
