Description
Book SynopsisGlean, a reference to the gathering of grain after harvest, explores the appalling trust implicit in any act of faith that prayer may not elicit a response. Spare and evocative, the collection struggles with a language at odds with itself
Trade Review“After we’ve reaped the whirlwind, what remains to glean? This debut approaches the question and its quiet apocalypse not desperately but,against all precedent, lovingly. And such approach is amply rewarded. In the hollow places of our day,Kryah finds not emptiness, but an echoing sound of wings. In the waste spaces, he finds a spark just now coming alight–for warmth, not burning. Crazy as it may sound, in Glean we have the love poetry of a terrible aftermath we need not, thanks to Kryah, fear after all.”—Donald Revell
“In these tight and resonant lyrics, logic, precision, and affection coalesce. Opening with the self as a winged fruit, Kryah goes on to find more and more facets of being that negotiate body, name, and world in a way that brings out both their reverence and their rigor. Like prayer that needs nothing to pray to, these poems continually open, enlarging our view.”—Cole Swenson
