Child Made Of Sand

Reader’s familiar with Thomas Lux’s quick-witted images ("Language without simile is like a lung/ without air") and his rambunctious, Cirque-Du-Soleil-like imagination ("The Under-Appreciated Pontooniers") will find in his new collection, Child Made of Sand, not only the signature funny, provocative, and poignant super-surrealism that has made him, along with Charles Simic, James Tate, and Dean Young, one of America’s most inventive and humane poets, but they will also find in a surprising series of homages, elegies, rants, and autobiographical poems a new register of language in which time and mortality echo and reverberate in quieter notes. In "West Shining Tree," we can hear this shift in register when he asks: "I’ll head dead West and ask of all I see:/ Which is the way, the long or the short way,/ to the West Shining Tree?" Surrealist Poetry: Dive into a Cirque-Du-Soleil-like imagination where dray horses get hugs from Nietzsche, pontooniers are underappreciated artists, and rattlesnakes form frozen balls. Philosophical Poetry: Lux wrestles with truth, empathy, and the "dense thing-ness" of nouns, placing him in conversation with contemporaries like Charles Simic and James Tate. Poems about Mortality: A new, quieter register emerges in elegies and meditations that confront death, memory, and legacy with startling clarity and without sentimentality. Autobiographical Poems: From memories of his father (nicknamed "Rabbit") to a self-deprecating "Outline for My Memoir," these poems ground the surreal in the deeply personal and humane.