It is said
we’ve each got a god inside us; that
the trick is just to clear the noise
from your head
so you can hear what it’s telling you. But it enjoys
ventriloquy, this god, it’s a pyrostat
sounding for no fire at all but the one you make
in your mind. It’s a thief-god and who knows what it will
a traveling arc. A voltage gap.
It’s said the link from one thought to
the next is kar-
ma, a trail of ionization. If you can wrap
your head around it, you can see, inside of you,
a Jacob’s Ladder, helix-twisted, climbing
your spine. It burst open at dawn, spirals shut in the
dusk. It’s all timing.
— Amy Glynn, author of A Modern Herbal
T. S. Poetry
Amy Glynn, in her debut collection A Modern Herbal, meditates on a menagerie of flora-the mythical, the medicinal, and the mundane-and fashions a lyric collection that resonates with incantatory power. The poems proliferate into a rich landscape of correspondences and metaphorical discovery: “You could see / whole worlds in nutshells,” she writes, and Glynn weaves in and out of an intense focus on the herbarium itself and the connections with everyday contemporary life she finds there. Whether it is in a poem about the olive or the nettle, the narcissus or the milkweed, Glynn’s vision of her subjects, and her voice, are both ancient and contemporary, combining a lush lyricism with modern rhythms of speech. In her hands, these specimens manifest our most human emotions as she conjures a world of perception from each. These are quick, wise poems that show us nature is no less beguiling than the heart.