Seacliff by Cate Lycurgus

Description

Anchored by a vivid and resounding sequence, Seacliff enacts the relentless crash and dissolution of our bodies, landscapes, and spirits, even as they are recombined to return. And so this book serves as a reminder of the primeval rhythm that sustains us. Unlike other works, this seascape impels a meditation that is not merely metaphorical. In the face of very real forces, the uncertainty is not whether one must surrender, but when and how. This testament of perseverance invites us to submit to—and to celebrate—the vast vigor of our planet. Here, alongside the Northern California coast, Seacliff offers a path, one lyric runner of shine, out to a fresh horizon.

Advance praise for Seacliff:

“Cate Lycurgus’s Seacliff is full of poems that deep-rumble their way across the page. If an ocean’s wave is a body, a sound, a presence and an absence all in one, then these poems are inside the wave. They do the hard work of determining how to live there, determining if there might be—even amongst the greatest losses—some  ‘light / elsewhere, even if not / for you.’ The ocean can seem a cold, vast depth, but in these poems we’re reminded that ‘everything is a sign’ to come up for air, to breathe in the fog and ocean-spray full of good words, like these, that tender us toward care. Seacliff is a transformative collection.” —Keetje Kuipers, author of Lonely Women Make Good Lovers and All Its Charms.

“Read these poems aloud and you can hear the waves breaking. Breathe in the imagery and you can smell the salt spray. Every poem creates its own tidal gravity, its own shore of attention. Throughout, Cate Lycurgus learns how the sea buoys us through difficult times, and how surfing can teach us about navigating the awe and terror of life. She insists: there is always light and an ‘incessant mercy’ at the seacliff.” —Craig Santos Perez, author of from unincorporated territory [åmot] and Call This Mutiny.

“How is anyone expected to carry on gracefully after the passing of a loved one? Cate Lycurgus asks God, asks the reader, asks the ‘dune lupine, eucalyptus, abalone,’ & the waves along Sea Cliff Drive. I shouldn’t be surprised, given her impeccable ear, but somehow Lycurgus hears the beach & the sea answer back. She translates this wisdom into elegies for her father, defiant odes that dive headlong into elation, & prayers for respite from death’s undertow. Somehow, Seacliff manages to walk past the cliff, past the sea’s raging decibels and into the light. And somehow I believe Lycurgus when she reminds me that our grief, our recovery, & even our joy are inevitable. ‘That this was not / remarkable: to be wrecked beyond use, past all recognition & still worth scooping / up.’ —Marcus Wicker, author of Silencer and Maybe the Saddest Thing.

Cate Lycurgus

Cate Lycurgus’s poetry has appeared in Best American Poetry, The American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Orion, and elsewhere. She interviews for 32 Poems and teaches professional writing in San Jose, California.