The poetry of Misha Feigin bristles with improvisational energy, gentle resignation, a joie de vivre that is, by turns, wily and philosophical. A murder of crows in a naked tree become “the silent notes / In the chord of grief,” yet the heart of a solitary sparrow remains “big enough / To shelter one more spring.” These are poems that celebrate language, light, and the lucky accident that finds us alive in a place where “any choice is a cosmic choice.” Choose this book as I have done, and you will discover, time and again. “In every new breath… / The same nourishment.” Dig in! — Brett Eugene Ralph, the author of Black Sabbatical Continue reading →