Tantrums in Air

In her excellent sophomore outing, Skillings (Fort Not) combines the brutal and acerbic honesty of confessionalism with the self-deprecating humor of the New York School to create an irresistibly original work. She excels at probing her own mind, bringing gravity to even seemingly banal or silly observations. In “The Duke’s Forest,” she interrogates the experience of being in nature, “ ‘Trees, and trees, more trees’/ is just the layered visual experience/ we all have in the forest, waiting/ to let ourselves take in the sign/ to turn back, go home/ and really hate someone.” In “Prelude: A Lump of Pure Sound,” she describes with comic dryness her path to a career in poetry, declaring that she chose her present method of artistic expression after realizing that dance was too difficult: “As a poet, you never had to be anything, since whatever you did was pretty much fine.” She goes on to describe the universal feeling of desperation induced by pretentious conversation: “At the faculty party, I walk away from the conversation about Mr. Heidegger, whom I do not understand, toward one about furniture, which I think about all day.” Full of vivid imagery and humorous barbs targeting both the self and the wider nonsensical world, this is unforgettable. (June)