The Salvager’s Arts

Line by line, Woolfitt’s poems unfold like treasures produced from the coat pockets of one of the collectors and gatherers who populate The Salvager’s Arts–treasures such as an old tin can “rusted to razor-lace, fine as a riffleshell.” In another poem, he writes, “I hold out my hands / to refuse,” and you must hear both senses of refuse laid bare; with both open arms and backbone, Woolfitt simultaneously rescues the castaway and stakes a claim.

Ida Stewart, author of Gloss

Woolfitt’s poems are anchored in Appalachia, justified in the legacy of mud and toil and a faith that that shakes rust from a tongueless bell. These poems tear wood and iron from the wreckage, making new creations of lament and celebration. Multitudes live here, from the water-shrew to Holy Rollers, artists to a re-visioned Cain and Abel. These poems “sing the song of plummet/ that the peaches sing as they long/ for solid ground” – and they lift us back to the skies.

Valerie Nieman, author of Wake Wake Wake and Blood Clay

Selected by Sascha Feinstein as co-winner of the Keystone Chapbook Prize, The Salvager’s Arts was published by Seven Kitchens Press in 2013. If you’d like to order a copy, please do so here. Check out Seven Kitchens Press’s catalog here.

*

some links to sample poems

“After Samson Burns Her Family’s House and Grain-fields,” originally appeared in Four Way Review
“And the Limberjack-Dolls Shall Stomp Their Feet,” originally appeared in Prime Number
“Simon Rodia Builds the East Tower of Nuestro Pueblo to Honor His Brother Killed in a Mine Explosion,” originally appeared in Switched-on Gutenberg

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s