Winner of the Kinereth Genseler Award, Alice James Books.
Read a review at Shelf-Awareness!
“Michael Broek’s book Refuge/es takes on the whole world: history, justice, the fragmentations of modernity, terrorism, erotic love and estrangement. But his resources are substantial—these poems possess intelligence, erudition, gravitas and urgency. Serious and moving in voice and ambition, this passionately lyrical and articulate work reminds me very much of the capacious, fierce and intelligent work of Adrienne Rich.”
—Tony Hoagland
“Juxtaposing our wars, our disturbed cities, our flawed policies with the erotic and domestic, Michael Broek creates, in Refuge/es, a stunning love song for our troubled nation and world. Consisting primarily of three sequences, this audaciously original first book is actually one complex collage with recurrent points of reference, assembled with uncommon skill and passionate care.”
—Martha Collins
Read a review at Shelf-Awareness!
“Michael Broek’s book Refuge/es takes on the whole world: history, justice, the fragmentations of modernity, terrorism, erotic love and estrangement. But his resources are substantial—these poems possess intelligence, erudition, gravitas and urgency. Serious and moving in voice and ambition, this passionately lyrical and articulate work reminds me very much of the capacious, fierce and intelligent work of Adrienne Rich.”
—Tony Hoagland
“Juxtaposing our wars, our disturbed cities, our flawed policies with the erotic and domestic, Michael Broek creates, in Refuge/es, a stunning love song for our troubled nation and world. Consisting primarily of three sequences, this audaciously original first book is actually one complex collage with recurrent points of reference, assembled with uncommon skill and passionate care.”
—Martha Collins
You Are in Another City
Here in my bivouac
on the other side of the world
I will write to you
about all the head-sunk people
eyes bowed thick with fear
walking like statistics up
& down the streets & the ones
who turn their faces
& whom I mis-believe are you.
I am not sure I know the difference anymore
between this person & that
along Kingsland Avenue
though some point guns & others
kiss me hard on the lips
& I am so glad
we are one of those
kind who point with our mouths
most of the time.
I could say your name
or I could just crawl across your chest
& our thighs would speak the text
lay your head against my neck & come
nameless one
everywhere
London, Mumbai, New York, Shanghai
these species: citis
this genera: citi
slicing off the—y
no good asking anyway.
You are in another citi & I
am deep here in myself
—less these numbers, less these names & eyes--
but it is the same sky, isn’t it ....
Here in my bivouac
on the other side of the world
I will write to you
about all the head-sunk people
eyes bowed thick with fear
walking like statistics up
& down the streets & the ones
who turn their faces
& whom I mis-believe are you.
I am not sure I know the difference anymore
between this person & that
along Kingsland Avenue
though some point guns & others
kiss me hard on the lips
& I am so glad
we are one of those
kind who point with our mouths
most of the time.
I could say your name
or I could just crawl across your chest
& our thighs would speak the text
lay your head against my neck & come
nameless one
everywhere
London, Mumbai, New York, Shanghai
these species: citis
this genera: citi
slicing off the—y
no good asking anyway.
You are in another citi & I
am deep here in myself
—less these numbers, less these names & eyes--
but it is the same sky, isn’t it ....