Marshland Moon-Eleanor Gray (DP3)

Marshland Moon-Eleanor Gray (DP3)


A collection by Eleanor Gray (

Cover design by Colleen Fishel

"Gray's work has a classic feel to it—something pastoral, as if herded uphill or harvested by hand; dense Dionysian kernels squirreled against winter—and although you needn't be versed in ancient Greek to enjoy these poems, if 'marshland moon' does not immediately induce an out-of-body experience, you may find that googling any unfamiliar references will help them to grow on you like ergot fungus on rye.
There's a raw reality at the heart of this fantastic collection as well—a confessional offering, intimately personal, returning each esoteric ghost to its ruined temple with a typographic idiosyncrasy that says much by what it leaves unsaid. A jarring juxtaposition, a tough pill to swallow that works well in context, stylistically unified by a distinctive knack for conveying cadence and emphasis with blank space.
Excellent work from a young poet destined for great things."

"Ms. Gray is a young, original talent. She writes with the fire and pathos of Sappho, the bleak insight of Larkin and Plath, and the range of Williams and Cummings. She deserves a much wider audience."-Michael Morris


“(it is nothing, is nothing

…and so, where fables began)” – from [Lady’s Slipper]

After reading:

if there is no card

the flowers
from loss.

I didn’t know how to end things. I threw a soft doll

at a bullet.

I was trying to be quiet
but silence

it has
a safe word.

The way swimming plays with my shadow. The prop




The missing child learns a new word. Not from me. Not that I remember. Our favorite program? A previously ruined nostalgia.

“a nameless sensation which perpetually haunts the body” – from [and then, Monsters]

I have a look I want to give loss.

“I want to say goodbye, I want
time to say goodbye” – from [Skeletal, Furred]

In my dreams I am ugly. In my dreams I am not differently awake.

“and so, what then of
colossal sleep,  – from [Zero Beauty]


Remnant and Root:

“there is no language that can articulate what it is I suffer by, or do not suffer by- like all the sufferings suffers I am…” – from [Inactive Currency]

“/ do I even know of longing / I know of being held / “ – from [Wormwood]

“how do I
…love the very gnat of self” – from [Plox]

“holy, holy the black asterisk of wound
for the child I never was” – from [Languid Limbo]

“ ‘murmur’  I had forgotten the word
ash without meaning, death without purpose”

“-I am
a song, an urn, a stairwell” – from [Susurrus]


This is a book. The title, to me, is very alone…and, intimacy, the most distant of permissions.

~"- Barton Smock

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