Winner of the Snowbound Chapbook Award, John Cross’s staring at the animal is a haunting exploration of the tension between raw experience and the search for transcendence. These poems are fragmented and glittering, full of jagged beauty that speaks to the delicate balance of awe and ruin. Cross’s language is visceral, his images powerful, and his themes universal—addressing the ephemeral nature of life and the deeper hunger for meaning beyond the material world.
From intimate reflections on grief and longing to profound meditations on human connection and the natural world, staring at the animal offers readers a deeply emotional journey. The chapbook is a hymn to brokenness, a guide to finding light in the fractured pieces of existence.
Format: paperback
ISBN: 978-1-932195-71-2
“Cross’s staring at the animal enchants with its delicate balance of disciplined sight and unifying warmth. The ‘good sun’ in his poems casts light not just on the external world but also on the internal struggles of the self. This collection offers a uniquely transformative reading experience.”
—Jay Thompson, The Kenyon Review
“These poems ache in their jaggedness, glittering through disassembly. Cross’s imagery is sharp and evocative, inviting readers to feel their way through the complexities of human emotion and experience. His work is both tender and fierce, a testament to the resilience of the spirit.”
—Ghoti Magazine
“John Cross’s poems are like shattered gems—prickly, beautifully wrought, and haunting. They weave a hymn of survival, a guide for navigating the profound struggles of existence. staring at the animal is a powerful songbook of imagination and resilience.”
—Gillian Conoley, Judge for the Snowbound Chapbook Award
“Cross’s language is startling and meticulous, spinning associations that make the spine tingle. His poems, grounded in sound and sense, transport readers to a world they recognize just before he transforms it into something new and strange.”
—Cole Swensen
When the Water in the Skin was Gone
Looking for an unmutilated place—
At every periphery lies
Something terribly roadside
: God’s footprint—
A hole Big enough for a child-house.
: A quiet that will never
Be silenced—
From an arid language
Driven toward fire
The Carny Phones from Paradise
Our signals would have been of little use
through the peepholes, we agreed. private amusements
reduced to “be very careful.” first kiss
in the trauma of the furniture covered with white
sheets, the door left open for air, “hiss.” a block
away, a carnival: tilt-a-whirl, blue streak, devil’s teacup…
“the mattress held all of us cousins over the ash & rust”
what music of summer bounces under
this pumice of stars. “slippage,” blowing in our ears
at the top of the world ; to the front & rear, lacuna.
we hovered, held fast. dark birds tore past:
the moon returning its borrowed light.
Letter from Kabul
dear friend, I have to do with death.
mostly I write from here:
star bright
fever we call daisy cutter,
fifteen thousand pounds of pure sound
caught up in the meter,
sings toward the feverish blades,
and grass eyes blink out
all over. good night to whomever.
ignite.
Winner of the sixth annual Snowbound Chapbook Series Award
