Author: Heather C. Akerberg
Publisher: Burning Deck (2008)
The poems of Dwelling investigate, musically and with “bended” syntax, the issue of form—in body, home, and poem. They ask questions like: Is a “home” perhaps a series of spatial and cognitive experiences? What makes a structure/ space a home? Is it shape and architectural elements, the experiences and interactions that transpire there, the personal objects contained within, or the language ascribed to it? Can one separate recollections of one’s past from the physical spaces in which they occurred? Is a “home” just a backdrop for events that will become memories or is it another body, inside of which is found the tangible and intangible stuff of self, a body to be read like any other text? If so, what is read there?