My Book is out for Pre Order/ Ahora Puedes Pre Ordenar mi Libro.

http://www.patasolapress.org/origin-of-by-kiely-sweatt/



There’s something shattered at the core of Kiely Sweatt’s neon, witty and chiseled poetry. The lovers and friends who haunt her debut collection, The Origin Of, are simultaneously inside and outside each moment, stuck in beautiful and startling disconnection. If you look to poetry to splash cold water on your face, this is a collection for you.

JOANNA FURHMAN


Origin Of is an unusual species of poetry book….This book is a sly and knowing mind-body problem slipping out of its leather dress and harvesting its body mind perspiration for scent, destined for anyone lucky enough to remember what they still don’t know. The beautiful young woman is soaking wet and all on fire and you had better listen before she dies or dries or ashifies and in or out of boredom goes and gets some clothes on. Sweatt should be a new star on the scene. Hotly recommended.
JENNIFER MICHAEL HECHT


Kiely Sweatt’s The Origin Of contains poems that do battle with their own narrative disassociations, seeking absent connective tissue or rules of sequence, while living “lives in five-second intervals.” After the disorder of “years turned sideways,” the urge of the poems is to seek shelter, study the surrounding environment, and piece together clues of what’s wanting (“two torsos/without limbs/attached to prove/what the arms suggest”), while avoiding the paralysis of poetic self-consciousness. Past sense is often delicious (“I am a mouthful/of currants and/rose petals”) and often agonizing, but in the end the book seems determined to make sudden sense of the patterns contained therein. A simultaneously turbulent and alluring book.
BRUCE COVEY


Imagine poems with the metal to enter any human part, or with the flesh to pass through any ghost. An arsenal of dynamite like an open invitation to origin. “But blood doesn’t have doors in the dark….” When I say dynamite it’s this book I am talking about to my friends as soon as I get my hands on some copies! Keily Lynden Sweatt has invoked a strength found in surrendering all origin of being human. These poems are all the things I imagine poems are capable of doing to me.

CA CONRAD


In poems that inhabit and eschew dislocation and homesickness—managing both at once—, Kiely Sweatt seems to have channeled the birds in their “native chirp.” Here, imagistic shorthand leads to sudden clarities, and a note is sounded, a little cautionary, a little calming. These poems “don’t give up, don’t panic/ and don’t push to be saved.” From there, from that not, Sweatt deftly demonstrates, arises the yet possible.

MARY ANN SAMYN


Kiely Sweatt’s Origin of is an exciting first book of poems by a fresh and original young poet. These poems move at the speed of life; jittery, impatient, the language won’t sit still. As we slide—this ice is slippery—from poem to poem the diction and the syntax and the forms metamorphose. We have long poems and short poems, poems formally arranged and poems very informally (and artfully) unarranged, prose blocks of narrative and description about artists with letters for names. The language can formally reference obscure biological creatures and then shift and become contemporary and colloquial and maybe a little shocking. What the poems share with each other, and with us, is a sometimes almost painful intimacy and a breathless intensity. Be careful with this collection. The poems have the qualities of a car driven too fast, a carnival ride that might not be safe, a boy or a girl you probably shouldn’t date. And there are other risks—dizziness, unpredictable idiosyncratic side effects, addiction. It’s also a book you can’t afford to miss.

EDWARD SMALLFIELD