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Bad Anatomy: forthcoming from Glass Poetry Press, February 2018. NOW AVAILABLE – CLICK HERE TO BUY!

“Here, I see only what isn’t / and isn’t us,” Hannah Cohen writes in Bad Anatomy, and yet this chapbook is full to bursting with dark fantasy and whim, from “galaxy-flavored vodka” to “a green glass / bottle inside your stomach” that’s “never going to stop breaking.” A poet of self-deprecation, these darkly humorous poems provide an unyielding glimpse into the anxieties of selfhood, and the ways that the imagination functions as a fool-proof escape: “Inhabiting a body is easy. But living / in one?”…I’m not / Hannah tonight. She’s only the crow in my ribcage.” With Cohen, readers will learn all the ways we betray ourselves and then forgive ourselves. – Emilia Phillips, author of GROUNDSPEED and EMPTY CLIP.

 

Hannah Cohen is a poet who isn’t afraid. Cohen’s chapbook starts off with an inverse aubade, the last line digging a knife into my heart, “I leave/nothing.” The rest of the chapbook follows suit, except Cohen leaves a lot. Cohen leaves my heart, my lungs, my brain, my kidneys, my mouth full with everything I can muster to feel. Cohen wonderfully brings us into the grotesqueness of the modern world and the internet with its fast-paced ability to give us information and experiences (“Today I learned there are babies/born with their intestines/outside their little baby bellies./I don’t know how I spent/three hours on Google”). She does this in a way that feels real and original, lending her voice out into the world. – Joanna C. Valente, author of MARYS OF THE SEA and editor of A SHADOW MAP: AN ANTHOLOGY BY SURVIVORS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT.

 

Hannah Cohen is a strong new voice the poetry community needs. The speaker of these poems is a woman haunted by her own vulnerabilities, a woman creating the strength-shield she needs to navigate and survive this life. To protect herself. How true these poems reflect the nature of merely existing in a world in which everything seems stacked against you, even your own self: “This red/ without life, and I can’t stop the betrayal” (from “Upon Starting My Period After the Election”). Couple this with the “I myself am half-hell/ and half-morning” of “Self- Portrait as Grendel” and you have the duality of living, the ping-pong of doubt and persistence.

Kolleen Carney Hoepfner, author of YOUR HAND HAS FIXED THE FIRMAMENT

Reviews

Review of Bad Anatomy at Millennial Pink

Review of Bad Anatomy at Drunk Monkeys

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