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Across the landscape of current verse, multiple recent volumes stand out for their unique styles and motifs.

So Far So Good by Ursula K Le Guin

This particular last volume from the celebrated author, sent just prior to her death, bears a title that might seem paradoxical, yet with Le Guin, assurance is seldom easy. Known for her science fiction, several of these poems as well explore journeys, whether in our existence and the afterlife. One piece, After the Death of Orpheus, pictures the mythical figure journeying to the underworld, at which point he finds his lost love. Further compositions center on mundane topics—cows, birds, a mouse killed by her cat—however even the tiniest of entities is granted a soul by the poet. Landscapes are described with lovely clarity, sometimes under threat, in other instances praised for their beauty. Representations of mortality in the environment lead viewers to reflect on growing old and death, at times welcomed as an aspect of the natural process, in different poems resented with bitterness. Her individual impending death takes center stage in the final meditations, as hope mingles with gloom as the body falters, drawing close to the conclusion where safety vanishes.

Thrums by Thomas A Clark

A nature poet with minimalist tendencies, Clark has refined a style over five decades that removes several hallmarks of the lyric form, like the personal voice, discourse, and meter. In its place, he returns poetry to a clarity of awareness that provides not writings regarding nature, but the environment as it is. The writer is practically unseen, functioning as a receptor for his surroundings, relaying his observations with precision. There is no forming of subject matter into personal experience, no epiphany—rather, the human form transforms into a vehicle for absorbing its environment, and as it embraces the downpour, the ego melts into the landscape. Sightings of delicate threads, a flowering plant, buck, and owls are delicately interlaced with the vocabulary of music—the vibrations of the title—which soothes the audience into a state of evolving consciousness, trapped in the instant prior to it is analyzed by thought. These verses figure nature's degradation as well as aesthetics, posing queries about care for threatened beings. However, by transforming the echoed question into the sound of a barn owl, Clark illustrates that by aligning with nature, of which we are constantly a element, we may locate a way.

Sculling by Sophie Dumont

If you enjoy boarding a boat but occasionally find it difficult appreciating current literary works, this particular may be the publication you have been anticipating. The heading refers to the act of moving a craft using dual blades, simultaneously, but additionally brings to mind bones; vessels, death, and liquid mingle into a heady concoction. Grasping an blade, for Dumont, is like grasping a writing instrument, and in an poem, the audience are reminded of the similarities between poetry and paddling—since on a river we might know a city from the reverberation of its structures, verse chooses to observe the existence from another angle. A further composition describes Dumont's training at a boating association, which she quickly perceives as a haven for the cursed. This is a cohesive volume, and subsequent works persist with the theme of the aquatic—with a remarkable memory map of a dock, instructions on how to right a boat, descriptions of the water's edge, and a comprehensive declaration of river rights. You won't become soaked perusing this volume, except if you pair your literary enjoyment with heavy imbibing, but you will arise purified, and made aware that human beings are largely composed of liquid.

Ancient Echoes by Shrikant Verma

Like certain writerly explorations of mythical urban landscapes, Verma conjures images from the historical subcontinental kingdom of the titular region. The palaces, fountains, places of worship, and pathways are now quiet or have disintegrated, occupied by fading recollections, the fragrances of companions, evil entities that reanimate the dead, and revenants who roam the debris. This world of the deceased is depicted in a language that is pared to the bare bones, but ironically radiates vitality, hue, and emotion. An poem, a soldier moves aimlessly between destruction, posing inquiries about repetition and significance. First printed in the Indian language in that decade, shortly prior to the writer's passing, and at present available in English, this haunting work vibrates strongly in contemporary society, with its harsh images of urban centers obliterated by marauding forces, leaving naught but ruins that occasionally cry out in protest.