Poetry. Through branching clauses of off-kilter syntax, Graham Foust makes poetry in NIGHTINGALELESSNESS from the common stuff of conversations, including the ones bouncing around in our heads. "If you think you've seen it all you've seen one thing." By observation and direct address, these poems surge forward as a way to retreat and reflect. They concern what Keats calls "the weariness, the fever, and the fret" of adulthood, the weight of time, when the music has stopped. Yet in the syncopation of action against uncertainty, thought against belief, Foust uncovers a wobbly new music.
Poetry. "No one gets dark (or gets darkness) like Graham Foust. He's the one who'll say: 'A touch horrific is the green with which / the ground will tear the winter' while everyone else is writing their paean to spring. His (and ours) is a world of violence and ennui set to catchy numbers. 'I heard a fly buzz. / I don't know when I died.' In TIME DOWN TO MIND, Foust, now in early middle age, feels time's pressure as never before. He faces backwards tweaking lines from old songs and poems while being pulled or blown into the future. 'The heart of being is that I'm being forced out.' This is something we all know, of course, but who else will put it so baldly, so memorably. This work feels necessary."—Rae Armantrout "I like when it feels like poems are 'written for me.' Graham Foust's poems have that effect: the way they sound, the connections they make—to each other, to life, our lives... Just open this book and I'm sure you'll agree!"—Stephen Malkmus