Nate Klug is the author of the poetry collection Anyone and Rude Woods, a modern translation of Virgil’s Eclogues. His poetry has appeared in the Nation, the New York Review of Books, and The Best American Poetry. A Congregational minister, he lives in Albany, California.

"Nate Klug’s Hosts and Guests examines the sometimes uneasy, shifting economies between what serves as host and what is hosted in an array of contexts, from the Anthropocene to mother and fetus. . . . But it is perhaps in his delicate, intricate syntactical suspensions and arrangements, as much as in his arresting image systems, that Klug conveys the beautiful struggle of risking love and belief in bodies seemingly made to be lost to us."---Lisa Russ Spaar, Los Angeles Review of Books

Nate Klug is the author of the poetry collection Anyone and Rude Woods, a modern translation of Virgil’s Eclogues. His poetry has appeared in the Nation, the New York Review of Books, and The Best American Poetry. A Congregational minister, he lives in Albany, California.

"Nate Klug’s Hosts and Guests examines the sometimes uneasy, shifting economies between what serves as host and what is hosted in an array of contexts, from the Anthropocene to mother and fetus. . . . But it is perhaps in his delicate, intricate syntactical suspensions and arrangements, as much as in his arresting image systems, that Klug conveys the beautiful struggle of risking love and belief in bodies seemingly made to be lost to us."---Lisa Russ Spaar, Los Angeles Review of Books

Nate Klug is the author of the poetry collection Anyone and Rude Woods, a modern translation of Virgil’s Eclogues. His poetry has appeared in the Nation, the New York Review of Books, and The Best American Poetry. A Congregational minister, he lives in Albany, California.

"Nate Klug’s Hosts and Guests examines the sometimes uneasy, shifting economies between what serves as host and what is hosted in an array of contexts, from the Anthropocene to mother and fetus. . . . But it is perhaps in his delicate, intricate syntactical suspensions and arrangements, as much as in his arresting image systems, that Klug conveys the beautiful struggle of risking love and belief in bodies seemingly made to be lost to us."---Lisa Russ Spaar, Los Angeles Review of Books