The poems of Middle Youth look directly into the fire. Sometimes they find joy and the possibility of sustaining oneself; sometimes they feel the sense of an ending. Morgan Bach writes with a dark, crackling energy and controlled rage about the world we find ourselves in. Here are the loves that fill and drain us, tarot readings under a roof weighted with snow, and a body that keeps on moving though it feels like a full stop. Here is the usefulness of hope, even a secret one.
