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Your Lapidarium Feels Wrought
Your Lapidarium Feels Wrought

Jennifer Stella

Poetry | $12 $9
Spring 2016
Buy"…each line opening, like spun threads, toward a myriad metamorphosis."
Your lapidarium feels wrought is an exhibition of jeweled fragments in the form of language and experience. Beginning with raw materials, Jennifer Stella has wrought precious stones from rock, exposing crystallized, vivid imagery: hewed gems that catch and reflect light. Each poem functions as a postcard, an instant in time that harkens back to both the memory it recalls and to the moment it emerged in its new, polished state. Each instance of correspondence also speaks to the others within and across the seven cycles, via a shared parlance that spans time and space while retaining its particular, imagistic, and commemorative nature with a faint sheen of “wish you were here.” In her role and function as lapidary, the poet communicates how cutting away the opaque reveals an illuminated relationship between word and image. Excerpt ˇ


     We fault the not-quite-
           Mexico river and  salt
           balconies. Phoenix
                 child, the ash will
           sink in lemon-like
     tubs. Look—your
           license. And what a picture. Most learn
to waltz with shattered
Close ˆ

About the Author

Jennifer Stella
Jennifer Stella is a doctor and a writer. Born in France, she also served as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cameroon, Central Africa. Her poetry and prose have appeared in Eleven Eleven, The Drunken Boat, The Brooklyn Review, The Intima, and others. She has been invited to perform her work at venues including Bang Out SF, the Bowery Poetry Club, and the Cornelia Street Reading Series. She lives in New York City and is currently a resident physician in Primary Care/Social Medicine in the Bronx.

Advance Praise

A small book with large ambitions. These poems achieve themselves through keen and expansive formal constructions, each line opening, like spun threads, toward a myriad metamorphosis. Stella possesses a Dickinsonian eye for syntax and employs the sentence as a means of exploring a psychological American landscape, a terrain in which the familiar is recast into its most idiosyncratic possibilities, where the 'I and I / scale corners,' where tensions become inexhaustible points of discovery.—Ocean Vuong
Jennifer Stella’s Your lapidarium feels wrought offers a poetry that is honed and rehoned, fractal and fragmentary. In this poetry, surfaces glint. They want to invite the reader into their rutilant depths. And they want to reflect and deflect the reader into their fanciful surround. Stella sculpts language that will take on any challenge, vaulting into flight: “I write/wings of/raw sugar from/a glass-hewn bowl.”—Elizabeth Robinson
Jennifer Stella offers the strangest and truest of love poems – poems that glitter and shine with the pleasure of language and pulse with the desires that drive them. Everything is destabilized, which means everything is moving: the sun sets, the bus rolls north, the night air flies, we learn to waltz with chairs. All of life’s in dizzying play: “All I / cradle / turns to water.” But this is not a lament, this what time is, only and always motion. This is what love is too – cradling what falls through the arms. —Julie Carr