The conversation about Paige Lewis’ “Space Struck” was rather hampered by good intentions because we tried to adhere to miss Lewis’ apparent insistence (see this interview) on being addressed with what she feels are the right pronouns (they instead of she, and its inflected forms) until I continued with the old fashioned she, speculating on the willingness of my fellow readers to hide behind my assumedly age induced inability to conform to this newfangledness. But once this was out of the way, there was mainly enthusiasm about this inventive exploration of not only space, but also our own planet, selves, and the sheer nature of time, God, consciousness, and the original sin.
Some poems do get rather hermetic, but then you can just put a little crayoned question mark at the end of incomprehensible sentences, reread the poem in its entirety, and, if it still doesn’t gel, just forget about the whole thing. That’s what I do with poetry like this; there’s enough surprising clarity in this collection to compensate for a little bit of obscurity.
Watch Paige Lewis reading “You Can Take Off Your Sweater, I’ve made Today Warm”.