‘“The newspapers won’t commit to a headline,” Cheryl Quimba writes. “Is the world ending or beginning?”
Nobody Dancing is a language world of gorgeous sound and perception.
These are poems of intimacy and estrangement, lyric tenderness. Yes, the world is ending and beginning all at once: each line an aubade to one moment, an elegy to another, beautiful lines crafted like flaming phoenixes decaying and renewing, decaying and renewing.
Cheryl Quimba is a wise poet, reporting back on the glorious oddball beauty of being alive.’
‘“The newspapers won’t commit to a headline,” Cheryl Quimba writes. “Is the world ending or beginning?”
Nobody Dancing is a language world of gorgeous sound and perception.
These are poems of intimacy and estrangement, lyric tenderness. Yes, the world is ending and beginning all at once: each line an aubade to one moment, an elegy to another, beautiful lines crafted like flaming phoenixes decaying and renewing, decaying and renewing.
Cheryl Quimba is a wise poet, reporting back on the glorious oddball beauty of being alive.’