Where Deseret is shaped by land, SEWN is shaped by psychological distances. Lines are displayed and then crossed out, Rowlandson's captivity narrative echoes her unyielding faith, and the grain of the table thrums. Nature is relayed as both trapped and alive with activity, a nice metaphorical parallel to the nod to Rowlandson: snow catches, leaves shake on the edge of dropping and the sparrow is mute. It's the moment before movement caught in these lines recorded and caught on the "tape," forever stilled in their momentum: "It's thirty degrees near the maple tree/ While I concentrate on a brown leaf shaking on its branch/ With a little terror in my throat- some kind of hesitation" The text also draws from Stanley Cavell's The Senses of Walden, a book I am not familiar with, but nature is easily the pivotal point upon which this text turns.
Get both chapbooks here: http://horselesspress.com/