The poems in Lisa Alexander's debut collection, throttlebody, operate like the mechanism that gives the collection its name -- they navigate the tension of an idling engine and the wildness of a wide-open throttle. Her steady-eyed speaker allows the reader to leap from the tangible to the intangible as she explores the risks and celebrations of experimentation. Alexander writes, "My body counts on the sound of water / in the mouth, the brush of lips / grazing the phone receiver / to be reminded that it is more echo than matter." This collection does not shy away from illuminating the speaker's vulnerable and imperfect investigations. Rather, throttlebody looks head-on at an uncertain world and leaves room for it to expose its own faults as well as its redemptions.
The poems in Lisa Alexander's debut collection, throttlebody, operate like the mechanism that gives the collection its name -- they navigate the tension of an idling engine and the wildness of a wide-open throttle. Her steady-eyed speaker allows the reader to leap from the tangible to the intangible as she explores the risks and celebrations of experimentation. Alexander writes, "My body counts on the sound of water / in the mouth, the brush of lips / grazing the phone receiver / to be reminded that it is more echo than matter." This collection does not shy away from illuminating the speaker's vulnerable and imperfect investigations. Rather, throttlebody looks head-on at an uncertain world and leaves room for it to expose its own faults as well as its redemptions.