The Lobes and Petals of the Inanimate
Phoebe Reeves pays attention like a poet. That is, she pays attention to everything around her 24/7—dire and exuberant, non-sequitur and sublime, actual and imagined. Reading her, I get the sense that she can see through walls and probably also to the moon… I’ll have to ask her about that the next time I see her, but in the meantime I’ll just say this: these poems are sight-full and insightful, both hanging together and falling apart: “The tree’s fingers swell into red buttons…near a stained box/ of spaghetti thrown from a jeep liberty.//Half a pear with a wasp burrowing in it…” In other words, The Lobes and Petals of the Inanimate is churning with a perspicuous and precise vision, which is not only clear and accessible, but weirdly, beautifully disorienting and affecting.
editor of Forklift, Ohio
In this refreshing first collection, Phoebe Reeves’ poems are corporal, honest, and earthy. She is determined to dig beneath surfaces, revealing what’s been glossed over and hidden. This is a poet who relishes what thrives against the odds and who finds beauty in unexpected places, declaring, “I make no acquaintance with the magnolias/in this city– only the fists of apple blossoms/and their sour fruit staining sidewalks.”
Rebecca Morgan Frank, Editor-in-Chief, Memorious