Description:
Poems by Laura C. Lippman that steer into both the beauty and vulnerability of the world. This is a collection about "not being perfect," about surviving times when "it seemed unlikely we'd make it," a book consisting of poems where "awe walks" and doctor's visits live side-by-side. And while the poems do not shy from catastrophe-sometimes contemporary, sometimes historical-they find solace in turning with love and attention to family and the natural world, encouraging readers to remain alert to "a symphony of syncytium," to track "the riffle and foam" of clouds, and be vigilant toward all the "tiny forms visible / to the careful eye."
Brief description: Laura Celise Lippman grew up in New Jersey and attended the University of Oregon and Bryn Mawr College. She received her M.D. from the Medical College of Pennsylvania. She moved to Seattle for her training in Family Medicine and settled in the Pacific Northwest. She raised her children and practiced medicine there for forty years. Since retirement, she has studied poetry at Hugo House, Centrum, and on-line. Her work is represented in the anthology Grief Age Love, edited by Jeanie Okomoto and many poetry journals. She is the co-author of the book Writing While Masked, Reflections of 2020 and beyond. She enjoys the outdoors, citizen science, and sharing her wonder at the natural world.
Review Quotes:
Reading Laura C. Lippman's work, you will discover memories and times captured and exquisitely woven with family, nature and relationships. A fabric of words dyed with her brilliance for wit and humor, found even in tough times.
- Margaret Roncone, author of Sleeves of Blue and Poet Laureate of Vashon Island 2023-2025
"I'm taking the helm," Laura C. Lippman declares in the opening poem of The Catastrophist's Daughter, and what follows are poems that steer into both the beauty and vulnerability of the world. This is a collection about "not being perfect," about surviving times when "it seemed unlikely we'd make it," a book consisting of poems where "awe walks" and doctor's visits live side-by-side. And while the poems do not shy from catastrophe-sometimes contemporary, sometimes historical-they find solace in turning with love and attention to family and the natural world, encouraging readers to remain alert to "a symphony of syncytium," to track "the riffle and foam" of clouds, and be vigilant toward all the "tiny forms visible / to the careful eye."
- Bill Carty, poet author of Huge Cloudy
and We Sailed on a Lake