Part diptych, part epistle, A Shape & Sound reverberates with reiteration and echoes, and subsequently creates a refuge where “letters come / forward blinking / out snow.” The interruptions of white space in this poem reveal the mesmerizing cadences of our world. Reading the words of Andrew Ruzkowski is akin to pressing one’s ear to a hive: his discoveries are both graceful and mesmerizing.
—Michael Robins
Ruzkowski crafts a patient, palimpsest verse in order to interrogate landscapes of constant morphological change. The speaker of these poems implores his intimate other and the panorama around him--all ululating parts—to satisfy what now can be said of his world. Yet there is always the want for more--these poems express a vivid and incessant craving for connectedness. Ruzowski’s debut chapbook is simultaneously of human proportions and much greater than human proportions--indeed, poetry to be taken measure by measure.
Part diptych, part epistle, A Shape & Sound reverberates with reiteration and echoes, and subsequently creates a refuge where “letters come / forward blinking / out snow.” The interruptions of white space in this poem reveal the mesmerizing cadences of our world. Reading the words of Andrew Ruzkowski is akin to pressing one’s ear to a hive: his discoveries are both graceful and mesmerizing.
—Michael Robins
Ruzkowski crafts a patient, palimpsest verse in order to interrogate landscapes of constant morphological change. The speaker of these poems implores his intimate other and the panorama around him--all ululating parts—to satisfy what now can be said of his world. Yet there is always the want for more--these poems express a vivid and incessant craving for connectedness. Ruzowski’s debut chapbook is simultaneously of human proportions and much greater than human proportions--indeed, poetry to be taken measure by measure.