Crosscut
Poems
Sean Prentiss takes readers into what it means to be a rookie trail-crew leader guiding a motley collection of at-risk teens for five months of backbreaking work in the Pacific Northwest. It is a world where the sounds of trail tools--Pulaskis, McLeods, and hazel hoes--filter into dreams and set the rhythm of each day. In this memoir-in-poems, Prentiss shares a music most of us will never experience, set to tools swung and sharpened, backdropped by rain and snow and sun, as individuals transform into crew.
Crosscut is so much about how life can be molded in a few short months of long days. Prentiss's poems remind you of the work of Gary Snyder and the harsh lives of the characters in Jack Driscoll's short stories. . . . His language is crisp, spare, descriptive.'--Robert Halleck, Split Rock Review
A book about beauty, healing, and optimism in spite of troubles. . . . This is the type of poetry that, were he still alive, Jim Harrison would likely have enjoyed.'--Jackson Ellis, Verbicide
At what point does hard labor stop nurturing the body and mind and start harming them? What do people lose when they do their work at keyboards and experience nature primarily as 'recreation'? With grace, power and humor, Crosscut makes us ask such questions as it reminds us of the power of sweat to transform our environments--and ourselves.'--Margot Harrison, Seven Days
Crosscut is about saving oneself in an unfamiliar and often harsh environment and holding onto this reprogramming when returned to civilization. These poems go much deeper than ax work and shovels. Perhaps we all need to pause for a 'tool count' on occasion.'--Betty McCarthy, Roundup Magazine
Through these beautiful, spare, and arresting poems, we hear the language of the trail: the tools, the bruises, and the long nights.'--Literary North
It's a testament to Prentiss's telling that he stirs up a yearning to walk the trails and wield a Pulaski alongside him.'--Amy Wang, The Oregonian
In a time when human communities have become more divorced than ever from the natural world, Sean Prentiss's debut collection of poems, Crosscut, celebrates the binding and clarifying effects of intense intimacy with the forests and rivers of the Pacific Northwest.'--Noah Davis, Green Mountains Review
Prentiss's poetic debut, Crosscut, tells the story of a ragtag trail crew crisscrossing the Northwest, learning the woods and themselves. By the end you, too, will pine for aching shoulders, dips in the river, and a night under the stars.'--Joe Wilkins, author of Fall Back Down When I Die: A Novel
Prentiss's poems have the muscular strength of a Pulaski swing--contact with earth and stone and wood, carving a trail in the wilderness away from all that hurts us, telling the tale of a crew of teenagers 'so recently lost.''--Todd Davis, author of Native Species and Winterkill
The world is strewn with nature poems, but too few of them feature blisters and sweat, as Sean Prentiss's do. My favorite poems here center the tools integral to life on a trail crew--chainsaws cut through bullshit, mattocks churn up new ground. Reader, open yourself to diction as incantation: Pulaski, hitch, crosscut. Sapwood, rakers, snag.'--Christine Byl, author of Dirt Work: An Education in the Woods
Sean Prentiss is an associate professor of English at Norwich University. He is the author of Finding Abbey: The Search for Edward Abbey and His Hidden Desert Grave (UNM Press) and the coauthor of Environmental and Nature Writing: A Writer’s Guide and Anthology. He lives with his family on a small lake in northern Vermont.
Balance Point
I
Retreat
Logger Boots
Gospel
Hitch
Dismemberment of a Stihl Chainsaw
Wild Cacophony
Hitch
Slogan
Hitch
Pay Phone
II
Trail Crew
Beard: Day 1
Born from Explosive Volcanic Events
Day 3 Review
Simple Math
Beard: Day 7
Boulder Creek
Museum of Hand Tools
Beard: Day 14
Hickory
Day of Rest
Tumbleweed
Beard: Day 21
The Backpacks of Our Lives
Driving Late at Night, the Crew Asleep, Many Miles Left to Travel
Gemini
Desolation Nights
Stripping
Rain Gear
Nouns of Assembly
Morning Freedom
Love Song
III
The Rogues
Rain along Whiskey Creek
In the Days after Our Breakup
The Trails of Our Lives
Prospect
The Trails of Our Lives
Pull
The Trails of Our Lives
Lost Love
Why am I yelling? I'll tell you why
Hands & Fingers
The Trails of Our Lives
What I Learn about the City during the Pause between Dusk & Dark
Alpha
The Trails of Our Lives
After a Ten-Hour Day
Music of the Woods
On the Trail Home
Wilderness Language
Savage Quitting
IV
Nowhere Road
Remote
Autumn's Outfit
Contradiction
Between
Enough
Train Tracks
Distance
Tomorrow
Another Kind of Light
Entropy
Tool Count
These Diminishing Miles, I Praise
Entropy
Becoming Enkidu, Losing Enkidu
I-5
Entropy
V
Lockwood Avenue
Quitting
Loggers
Destinations on a Map
Missed
Night House
Glory Guard Station
Things I Notice While Hiking a Trail We Built
Lost Love
Things I Notice While Hiking a Trail We Built
Bastard
Things I Notice While Hiking a Trail We Built
Return to Primitive
Shutter
Glossary of Trail Terms
Acknowledgments