THIS PLANET NEIGHBORHOOD

A collection of poems that situates ordinary gestures in the vastness of time and space, where the body, nature, and the cosmos intersect.

Denby’s poems almost always begin at ground level—with a crosswalk in “A Man Yawning,” a kitchen more grown than built in “A Poet Going Blind,” or a poolside bench in “One Street in This Planet Neighborhood.” Descriptions of these everyday settings then spiral out into larger meditations on time and space. Rather than getting lost in airy metaphysics, the poems instead favor a sinewy, tactile lyricism, best illustrated in “Ribbed Cages,” in which Vermonters carry “pines in their spines” and “Petunias blush hemoglobin, marigolds no longer move. / Bones grow there—stone bones, // radish bones, wheat bones, and dogs have begun to sprout.” Denby splits the collection into three sections in which thematic iterations of water and music recur as metaphors for the cords binding people to others around them and the vastness of the natural world. The third section takes these connections even farther, reaching out into something that can only be described as galactic in scope. Even in these verses, Denby never loses earthbound details, and the poems employ a gentle humor and a willingness to play with language that borders on punning. The author evinces an innate kindness toward all the works’ subjects, from a child’s understanding of the importance of a bee to a pair of twin sisters’ harmless yet fascinating disagreement about their mother’s last moments. Denby’s collection is a stirring example of Gaston Bachelard’s concept of intimate immensity, in which instructions for facing down a coyote or observations about the ways shadows play while writing can open a door to temporal or cosmic reflection. Occasionally, the collection suggests naivete, as in a flight of fancy about George Washington reincarnating in the present day and obsessing over groceries—a poem that lacks satisfying context. Fans of poets like Mary Oliver will appreciate the work’s immersive contemplative quality and the way the poet reliably pulls readers back to the physical realm, always returning to tactile sensations and experiences.

A sensory journey that starts on front porches and goes on to encompass galaxies.