Skin Memory

Skin Memory

John Sibley Williams

The Backwaters Prize in Poetry Series

96 pages

Paperback

November 2019

978-1-935218-50-0

$15.95 Pre-order

About the Book

A stark, visceral collection of free verse and prose poetry, Skin Memory scours a wild landscape haunted by personal tragedy and the cruel consequences of human acts in search of tenderness and regeneration. In this book of daring and introspection, John Sibley Williams considers the capriciousness of youth, the terrifying loss of cultural identity and self-identity, and what it means to live in an imperfect world. He reveals each body as made up of all bodies, histories, and shared dreams of the future.

In these poems absence can be held, the body’s dust is just dust, and though childhood is but a poorly edited memory and even our well-intentioned gestures tend toward ruin, Williams nonetheless says, “I’m pretty sure, everything within us says something beautiful.”
 

Author Bio

John Sibley Williams serves as editor of the Inflectionist Review and works as a literary agent. He is the author of four poetry collections, including As One Fire Consumes Another, which won the Orison Poetry Prize; Disinheritance; and Controlled Hallucinations. He lives in Portland, Oregon. 
 

Praise

"Skin Memory by John Sibley Williams is about the impressions and imprints we leave on the world. Both physically and psychologically, Williams recognizes the haunting interconnectedness of all things, the ever-evolving nature of the world and the scars we trade with it. While dissecting humanity's cruelty toward nature and itself, he yet invokes a tenderness, a final hope that maybe we can still bend our swords into plowshares."—Michael Prihoda, After the Pause

“These poems move with unhurried purposefulness so that you trust the seething urgency and deliberateness of lines like ‘memory is a language that’s survived its skin’ or the painfully earned benediction and expression of resigned hope in ‘whatever finally breaks me, I cannot refuse it.’ Splendid poetry, never seeking to pander in its accessibility, but always, nonetheless, as plainspoken as each complex idea will allow.”—Kwame Dawes, professor of English at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln and the Glenna Luschei Endowed Editor of Prairie Schooner

 

“In John Sibley Williams’s new book Skin Memory, a child inherits an earth haunted by the violence of the past—landscape of his own skin. What then, identity? Skin memory, as opposed to blood memory, is porous. In these poems Williams feels himself across its divide, experiencing “the shrapnel seeing leaves behind in things,” and does so in language mesmerizing as “the slow pulse oaks bring to the forest.” I don’t often encounter poems deep enough to settle into that are, at the same time, this deeply unsettling.”—Melissa Kwasny, author of Where Outside the Body Is the Soul Today
 

“Both imaginative and lucid, Skin Memory offers a rich cartography of our world as we’ve made it, a world of overlapping skins (human, animal, earth) that caress and wound and scar one another. Here there is no false nature/culture binary, but earth as palimpsest—a body made up of bodies, histories, and dreams of the future. Like the tattered fragments of Borges’s Map of the Empire, Williams’s world is always charged with mystery alongside human desire and folly: wherever our endeavors mark the landscape, there too the scrub grass peeks through.”—Sarah Rose Nordgren, author of Darwin’s Mother
 

 
 

Table of Contents

Skin Memory
¤
Snake. Tree. Rope. Wall.
Dewpoint
Hekla (Revised)
St. Helens [1980]
Then We Will Make Our Own Demons
It Was a Golden Age of Monsters
Sons of No One
Spectral 
Symptoms of Shelter 
Everything Must Belong Somewhere 
There is Still 
Nocturne
New Farmer’s Almanac 
On Being Told: You Must Learn to Burn Like This 
¤
Advice Picked up Along the Way 
Swing 
Adagio 
Killing Lesson 
For C. D. Wright 
Rules of Common Landscape 
On Being Told: You Must Learn to Pray 
Always Greener 
Dear Nowhere 
Tonight’s Synonyms for Sky 
Closure 
Prelude to Again 
As Above, So Below 
Star Count 
As a Child, Drawing Purgatory 
Off Season 
Variations on a Theme 
Fog 
Death is a Work in Progress 
Poison Oak 
The Animal 
Compared to Even the Smallest Star, the Moon is a Child
On Being Told: White is a Color without Hue 
Salt is for Curing 
Than the Dead 
Inventing Fire in Northern Michigan in December 
One Horse Town 
Absence Makes the Heart 
We Can Make a Home of It Still 
On Being Told: You Must Learn to Love the Violence 
Father as Papercut 
Says a Father to the Night from His Emptied Nest 
Outage 
A Brief History of a Perfect Storm 
The Length of the Field 
Natural History 
Anything Can Be Made a Halo 
After-Bruise 
Sanctum 
Before, and the Birds After 
[this is only a test] 
¤
Forge 

Also of Interest