Poetry. Art. Doorframes and daily "cutting into" breathlessness are the architecture of Katie Yates's POEM FOR THE HOUSE. Lyric transport happens. Yates offers mustard balm, a humid room, her hand hesitating longer-than-necessary. These portals open and open then open again. Into what exactly? Human hearts. Unlawful lakes. Rest. Motion is choreographed with mental acuity and earnest generosity. This is a book to read to still oneself. This is a book to read to propel oneself. Yates offers a forgiving dock on which to anchor or launch. With tempered insistence, this poetry binds a child to her parents, a lover to another, danger to song. What accrues is an expansiveness that exceeds any room—a presence. A conference of birds. Hum along.

Author City: Woodbridge, CT USA

Katie Yates grew up mostly in French West Africa with stints in India and Turkey and now finds herself in New Haven, Connecticut, not a bad place to raise children. She has a DA from The University at Albany, an MFA from Naropa University and a BA from Carleton College which simply implies she's well qualified to converse with a two-year old. She lives with her blended family in a brick house in the suburbs and looks for insight in Buddhist teachings as much as she can. She still considers the Pacific Northwest her home.