Whether writing about land and earth “forgotten/like a rusted key” or love that arrives as “a kind of completion/of arrival”, Sagan’s poems speak to the essence of every corner they touch. They ask the rare daring questionand what’s left unsaid adds reverberating power to her lines. The personal echoes the world’s concerns in surprising, stunning ways—and the earth holds all of it in its imaginary borders. Her poems yield secrets we all need to hear. Indeed, Sagan’s poems are gifts, “hidden within the ordinary/…a flicker/of the ineffable.” —Renée Gregorio, author of Snow Falling on Snow
Beasts is a book about time—time passing, time cycling, time fossilizing, time writing itself on the human imagination. Such a scope might crumble in a lesser poet’s hands, but Sagan’s touch is dependably deft and fresh. Here are poems woven of high and low, shadow and light, visible and invisible, human and other-than. Tuned to the resonant universe, they touch us deeply.
—Anne Valley-Fox, author of Nightfall