Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Emily Moore's "Shuffle"
The vivid, sensual, bracing poems in Shuffle bristle with life, desire, and the charged expectancy of youth. If poetry's job is to wake us again to our own capacity to feel, these poems, about the pressures of coming of age, about women in love with other women, about friends who slip under along the way, about life in the city in one's early adulthood, electrify the reader with their visceral depictions of life’s abundance, dangers, and possibilities. Emily Moore is a prodigious musician as well as a fine-bore dramatist of the human heart, with a startlingly fine formal palette. The poems in Shuffle are extraordinary – exuberant, tender, nimble in their music, so alive they startle us into our human skins all over again.
author of Halflife and The Long Goodbye
Shuffle is an exquisite mix-tape of the poet’s twenties—a decade that begins with bootleg cassettes of “music recorded right out of the air” and ends with playlists on computer screens. For me, the magic of Emily Moore’s lyrics is in the way past tense becomes so thrillingly present—again and again, the retrospective frame falls away and we are transported into a mysteriously “haptic” moment: “the cold still on the cheeks / of girls who stepped outside to smoke.” These poems remind us of the dangers and pleasures of being in our “animal” bodies with "the metaphors inside our mouths” and “the baseball diamond dust still in [our] socks.”
author of Slippers of Elsewhere and editor of Dream Closet:
Meditations on Childhood Spaces