If, as poet Jerry Martien says, ‘the poem arises from the ground of its making,’ then Annie Lampman’s poems rise from the intimate touch of a tree’s growth rings, the harsh passage through a desert canyon, the uncertain challenges of raising sons, quiet stories of time burning away, the ways we make a living, the ways we make a life.


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Other than her bonsai trees, twenty-year-old arborist Silvania August Moonbeam Merigal is alone in the world. After first her mother dies and then her grandfather—the man who raised her and the last of her family—Silva suffers a sexual assault and becomes pregnant, and then, ready to end her own life, discovers evidence of a long-lost artist grandmother, Isabelle… 


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