Jennifer Maier

Jennifer Maier is the author of Now, Now and Dark Alphabet, which was named one of Ten Remarkable Books of 2006 by the Academy of American Poets and was shortlisted for the 2008 Poets’ Prize. Her poems have appeared in Poetry, Plume, Southern Humanities Review, Scientific American, The Gettysburg Review, American Poet, and elsewhere. She works as a professor of modern literature and poetics, writer in residence, and senior faculty in poetry in the MFA program at Seattle Pacific University.

The Occupant

Poetry

By Jennifer Maier

The Occupant isa collection of persona and prose poems that explores the “inner lives” of common household objects, along with that of “The Occupant” of the house, their human keeper. Taken together, their shifting perspectives engage questions of time, mortality, and the nature of consciousness itself, reminding readers of the beauty and strangeness that lurk under the surface of ordinary thought—the “other world” that, as Paul Éluard noted, “resides in this one.”

Now, Now

By Jennifer Maier

In Now, Now, Jennifer Maier’s second poetry collection, time is of the essence.

Moving with quantum ease through the porous membranes of the past, present, and future, the speaker wonders: What is each moment but the swirling confluence (or shy first meeting) of past and future—of what happened, and what-has-not-yet-happened but will?

Such phenomenological questions are sparked by ordinary events: a friend’s passion for jigsaw puzzles; an imagined conversation with a neighbor’s dog; a meditation on the uses of modern poetry. Here, in language at once elegant and agile, intimate and universal, the author probes beneath the surface of happenstance, moving with depth, humor, and compassion into the heart of our shared predicament: that of loving what we cannot keep.

But if time in these poems is relative, it bends toward grace—even, as the title suggests, towards consolation. Taken together, the poems invite us to raise a glass to the way we’re each “held light and golden in Time’s mouth,” and to savor something of the eternal—distilled, sparkling, already lost—inside every now.