It only seems fitting that my review of this sparse, short book follows in the same tradition, so I don’t think I’ll be writing much about Toronto-based Dani Couture’s 57-page collection of poetry YAW. But don’t take that to mean I didn’t get a lot out of it. I think this is a book of poems that I will come back to, and reap more from Couture’s precise, muscular lines again and again.
First of all, do I know what the title means? No, I don’t. Does it matter? I don’t think so. I mean, I googled it (“a twisting or oscillation of a moving ship or aircraft around a vertical axis”), but that didn’t really affect the way I felt about the poems. If anyone knows anything more about this word and its possible larger significance I’d be interested, but frankly I’m okay leaving it as a mystery for now.
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