Book Review: "Quivira" by Karen Kevorkian

I’ve had the pleasure of studying under Karen Kevorkian during my time at UCLA in their creative writing program.

Throughout the year, sitting in workshops with her and listening to her insights, poetry became a new language to savor. Originally, I entered her classes as a student of classical verse, but soon, she gave me the tools (or the confidence) to chisel away the structures of form and embrace an entirely new body. In her latest book of poems, Quivira, it feels as though, yet again, that I’m witnessing some new figure and watching it dance.

Published by THREE: A TAO PRESS (3taospress.com), Kevorkian’s Quivira explores the complexities (both human and natural) of the American West. Hers is a voice of vignettes. In snapshots of a larger mural, she dissects the “wrong turns onto rutted orange gravel/on the edge of a gorge a few feet away” (Half-Unpacked Suitcase), and within these moments of travel or introspection, there seems to be a deeper clawing for a sense of truth.

Cover of Kevorkian’s latest poetry collection, Quivira.

One of the best examples comes from the poem “Seem to Be Inscribing Some Sort of Language in the Air,” where the poet personifies the leaves of a tree: “a small cold wind/blows and a tree of brown leaves shakes/it is talking and the brown/rains down another gust/again that talking sound the leaves give.” In this stanza, we gain, perhaps, one of the strongest messages of this collection: the human desire to decipher the secret messages of the earth. All around us, there is a language that communicates, and Kevorkian’s poems translate that conversation in more ways than one. Be it through “little bites of fire in the dark” (Premonitions and Warnings We Give Ourselves), or “through the windows sitting on a wall” (Dieric Bouts, Annunciation…)—each poem is a deep glimpse into the memory of the land. Kevorkian is a sage of the Southwest, and her wisdom also extends to the lifeblood of Los Angeles—the poem “Explicit Comments About the West Coast, Non-Metaphorical” serving as a backdrop “where men strap on leaf blowers yank cords hard/wave wands left and right in priestly benison.”

Something else to acknowledge, too, is Kevorkian’s lack of punctuation in all of her poems. Occasionally, a coma emerges in a random stanza—a possible slash, period, or colon—but mostly, every poem breathes unencumbered. During workshops at UCLA (of which Kevorkian continues her work as a professor), allowing space for the poem to move freely was a common practice. I think very few poets have a clear understanding of how to use this approach effectively—leaving punctuation out for the sake of being unique or artsy. However, Kevorkian’s strategy drives at the heart of her book’s purpose: Quivira is an ever-changing mountain range. It is a desert sand constantly caught in the sideways breeze of a warm wind. It’s one thing to remove punctuation because it doesn’t look good, but to omit those barriers in a way that allows your message to communicate as free as a passing bird—that’s what Kevorkian has achieved in terms of style, craft, and overall meaning in her work.

The book itself is a beautiful, compact collection with original artwork on the cover by Brian Shields (Hondo, 2017), and the gold-colored back and front lettering are an enticing reminder to pick the book from your shelf whenever you need a refreshing warmth of poetic fire. Her other books of poetry include Lizard Dream and White Stucco Black Wing.

At pspoets, we make it our priority to recognize powerful poetry, and Kevorkian’s words are those that this generation should listen to. Once again, it’s an honor to have had the opportunity to learn from her and read her work, and I encourage you to do the same—to explore your boundaries and find ways to surpass them.

To order your copy of Quivira, click here! Also, to learn more about Karen Kevorkian’s experience as a writer, watch this interview she did with Poetry.LA. You can also find her on Instagram: @poetkarenkevorkian

Karen Kevorkian, Poet.