Overland, Natalie Eilbert
Copper Canyon Press, 2023
Green Bay, Wisconsin journalist and poet Natalie Eilbert’s third full-length poetry collection, following Swan Feast (Bloof Books, 2015) and Indictus (Noemi Press, 2018), is Overland (Copper Canyon Press, 2023). Through four numbered sections of lyric narratives, Overland explores an ecopoetic around the climate crisis, threading through the connective tissues of capitalism and poverty, police and state violence, and American gun culture. As the opening title poem offers: “I bite / into its lesions, the hard skin of poverty / so far removed it isn’t even the hand biting / the hand.” Her lyrics dismantle, pulling apart description and metaphor, mapping a landscape of America, speech and climate crisis, offering a direct line of narrative meditation, one that rolls along in a devastating and propulsive saunter, stepping one thought immediately after another. “What we do is we spend us.” she offers, as part of the poem “(EARTH), THE,” “I am not empty / of metaphor; I am tired of multitudes. / The indelible crush of leaves.” A bit further on, the poem adds: “I am not the promise / of forgetting. I merged regretfully / and I, too, missed the point.”
In terms of approach, Overland is a book-length essay on the climate crisis, articulated through direct and indirect statements, shaped through the poetic form of the first-person lyric narrative. Eilbert’s is a map of metaphoric lines, one that neither offers position nor direction but allows an articulation of boundary, offering means of how to directly approach. “I’ve forgotten how to live.” Eilbert writes, to open the poem “THE LAKE.” Further in the same piece, offering: “I watch, smoke pours from a window, night a green / mouth. My brothers have turned libertarian all of a sudden, // all night my mind bleeds through a screen, what / are your policies, what are your policies, what are.” This is a map of a landscape that tells you how to read it. It is interesting the ways in which she slips the names of influences through her poems, whether American poets Alice Notley or Louise Glück, their influence on her lines woven deep, only revealing themselves to those who may not have caught through the naming; caught, if one knows what to look for. “How is it,” she writes, as part of “LAND OF SWEET WATERS,” I come from Glück’s marshland without any of its blue lore?”
Born in Ottawa, Canada’s glorious capital city, rob mclennan currently lives in Ottawa, where he is home full-time with the two wee girls he shares with Christine McNair. The author of more than thirty trade books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, he won the John Newlove Poetry Award in 2010, the Council for the Arts in Ottawa Mid-Career Award in 2014, and was longlisted for the CBC Poetry Prize in 2012 and 2017. In March, 2016, he was inducted into the VERSe Ottawa Hall of Honour. His most recent titles include the poetry collections the book of smaller (University of Calgary Press, 2022) and World’s End, (ARP Books, 2023), and a suite of pandemic essays, essays in the face of uncertainties (Mansfield Press, 2022). An editor and publisher, he runs above/ground press, periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics and Touch the Donkey. He is editor of my (small press) writing day, and an editor/managing editor of many gendered mothers. He spent the 2007-8 academic year in Edmonton as writer-in-residence at the University of Alberta, and regularly posts reviews, essays, interviews and other notices at robmclennan.blogspot.com