Description
Book SynopsisA poetry collection that celebrates Black culture, creativity, and memory. From Kendrick to Kanye, to a Sunday in Oakland with Frank Ocean’s falsetto in the foreground,
Mausoleum of Flowers is still life set against the backdrop of demise. Daniel Summerhill’s sophomore collection grabs fate by the throat and confronts it. What does it mean to continue living when your friends are dying beside you? This collection melds an exploration of spirituality and rebellion with Black tradition. Summerhill’s poems invite the reader near in order to self-excavate and explore tones of loss, love, and light.
Trade Review“A writer, who, indeed, ‘may have God’s attention.’ What a blessing it is to see Daniel B. Summerhill render his memory, in grace, in ugliness, and most importantly, in hue. These poems, though new to us, have simmered in season, and in sun. What an amazing Black writer, unafraid to wrap himself in his own language. Summerhill asks questions in his work that, today, I cannot answer, so I must return.” * Jasmine Mans, author of 'Black Girl, Call Home' *
“The assemblage of poems in Daniel Summerhill’s
Mausoleum of Flowers creates an umbrella of memory through which language becomes the salve, the armor that allows these words to resurrect into something beautiful by living and reliving history. These poems are aware and cognizant of a social condition where silence is not an option; and yet, the poems are tender and loving—aesthetic beauty on the poet’s terms.” * Randall Horton, author of '#289-128: Poems' *
“Summerhill’s name precedes him, in the world of these poems, where Black folks are ‘basking in the sun around lake merritt,’ where the speakers ‘bleed & flowers bloom. . . American fruit.’ This is a voice speaking from, not a voice speaking for. A voice declaring ‘i, too, am perennial.’ It is the poet’s eye that redeems, making lists of what is blooming around him: an old Buick’s exhaust cloud, a collarbone forming ‘in a mother’s round belly,’ a Frank Ocean chord progression. Nothing is left out here, not even fear, and everything that remains flowers. Reading these poems—I remember who we are, I notice redemption more. Summerhill muses on the specter of death called America, but in a place called Oakland his verse is ‘very much alive.’” * Joy Priest, author of 'Horsepower' *
Table of Contentsdo not gather flowers for me
wading
when we say it’s in us, not on us
sunday in oakland
america is the only living thing that don’t complain when the rain doesn’t come
enoch’s second trip to earth
“oh” for oh
shoutin’
fear (after kendrick lamar)
i used to believe there wasn’t anything a Black woman’s prayer couldn’t fix
frank’s opus: poolside convo erasure
mama
on deciding to leave my tail out
frank’s opus: nikes
thrill is gone
//
phototaxis
nomenclature
for damion
cayendo
footnotes for kanye (after jasmine mans)
frank’s opus: pink + orange
asking for a friend feat: chris abani & danez smith
sitting in a wicker chair against floral wallpaper in oakland heat
enlarge my territory
how the quiet won’t stop moving long enough to be held
frank’s opus: solo
//
love is the result of attempting to stay
bouquet
no one told me the world was on fire
geography (after tjawangwa dema)
frank’s opus: skyline to
baldwin discovers pepsi on sale
sitting in a wicker chair against floral wallpaper in oakland heat
how to spell redemption
interloping
frank’s opus: self-control
chile’ as in you
salvation
nobody loves me but my mother & she could be jivin’ too
//
frank’s opus: nights
language for exhaustion
belching
frank’s opus: solo reprise erasure
considering the defense production act
in defense of survival
sitting in a wicker chair against floral wallpaper in oakland heat
frank’s opus: godspeed
mausoleum of flowers
notes
