Letitia Trent

Wells and Trent wander through ruins of a medical dictionary, digitalia, and collage to create a severe pose as commentary on destruction and decay of the body--and the body as phenomena. Wells, in his introduction, says "with art comes form, and with form come limits." And is not the body limited by the only human surety: death? But, ultimately it is all about creation. I applaud the aesthetic of this collection of riveting images. Another required text for Asemia and Visual Poetry. --Kristine Snodgrass, author of RANK A brilliant exercise in both repetition and symmetry... Wells applies Trent's words to the page over and over in ways that remind the reader/viewer of the different effects that happenin a hall of mirrors. There is always another place to turn and look again from a new perspective. --Amanda Laughtland, publisher of Teeny Tiny Press

An “intelligent, melancholy, and terrifying” ghost story set in a picture-perfect Vermont town (Paul G. Tremblay, author of The Cabin at the End of the World). In 1993, teenage Claire and her twin brother, Sam, sneak out to Farmington’s old textile factory, where they’ve heard the high school kids go to party. When Sam falls into a basement window and injures himself, Claire runs for help, thinking she’s left Sam alone. But something horrible is inside the otherwise empty factory with him . . . Fifteen years later, Claire is working as Farmington’s librarian, secretly wrestling with her guilt after her brother’s death. She leads a quiet, lonely life—until Sam begins visiting her. Meanwhile, Justin, an ambitious business developer, has come to town to transform the abandoned factory into a new boutique retail location. But a painful, violent past lies behind the building’s walls that, for everyone’s sake, might be better left undisturbed . . . “A lyrical, haunting, and unsettling story . . . [crafted] out of the skeletons and whispers of a small town with a decidedly tragic past.” —Richard Thomas, author of Disintegration “Recalls the golden era of 1970s and 1980s horror fiction, but burnished with an entirely contemporary voice, crafted with a poet’s eye for detail and ear for language. Reminiscent of the early work of Rosemary Campbell and Charles L. Grant, simultaneously chilling and poignant, this novel and its inhabitants hauntedme long after I had uneasily put it down.” —Michael Rowe, author of Enter, Night

In Letitia Trent's latest collection, her poems weave wraith-like through the breaths between cuts, lingering in spaces often left offscreen. The work approaches deified films from the perspective of women, framing lost and forgotten voices against the overpowering mythos of the auteur. Match Cut cherishes its cinematic muses as much it critiques them. It doesn't burn down; it creates space for women and femmes to respond to scenes and characters created by men. Trent's collection emphasizes the limitations of the male gaze and the way women are often reduced to tropes. In "Blue Velvet" Trent says, "with every pan, / every match cut / that when it comes to women, // there are really only two--" The narrators living in these pages don't wait for their directors to call on them. They shape their own stories, fleshing out tales we love with the voices they've always been missing. Trent's verses often dwell in dark places, but their existence is an act of deliverance.

In Letitia Trent's debut full-length collection, the poems unfold like wildflowers in the spring, each one more surprising and dazzling than the last. But they are not simply a fleeting beauty, but rather a voracious and heated sort that stays with you long after you've closed the book. These poems, rooted deeply in the places that they explore, are impeccably constructed and bitingly honest. This is a collection from a new voice that must be heard.