The image is weed socks. The image is braiding your hair. The image is a cut on your scalp, where I shaved too close to the skin. The image is a birthday present. The image is sucking your dick. The image is pies setting. The image is your new. The image is flaccid. The image is boring. The image is sorry. The image is explicit. The image hasn’t happened yet. The image is merely inside the skull. Now the image is outside the skull, I saw it coming, especially the end. I anticipate my inability to feel close to anyone. Everything in the image acquires meaning. When something is meaningful I want it gone.
Aja Moore’s debut collection of poetry is awash in sincerity and the ways in which we simultaneously crave, doubt, avoid, and totally disparage it. hotwheel, in turn, reveals its precious life-affirming conviction, despite its incertitude—or precisely because of it.
Aja Moore is a graduate of the University of British Columbia. She has volunteered with the B.C. Book Prizes, Summer Literary Seminars, and as a Poetry Editor for PRISM International. hotwheel is her first book.
“Wonderfully adjacent to the terms of their own conception. Don’t let the casual dress fool you: Moore is one to watch.”
- Sina Queyras, author of My Ariel
”These are shapeshifting, fast-moving poems that skillfully navigate the universe of Poetry itself, ricocheting off mega planets like Rimbaud, Sharon Oldes, Robert Duncan, Rilke and Pound while flitting in and around the author’s personal galaxy of which these planets are part. Lines shoot through these pages like an urgent message from an important friend calling from somewhere with a low cell signal—you find yourself pressing your ear to these lines and listening to them on repeat.”