Distributary Volume 38

Luke Johnson’s first book Quiver (TRP, 2023) was named a finalist for the California Book Award and finished finalist for prizes such as the Jake Adam York, The Levis and the Vassar Miller Award. Johnson is the co-author of A Slow Indwelling, a call and response project with the poet Megan Merchant (Harbor Editions). You can read more of his work at Kenyon Review, Prairie Schooner, Narrative, Poetry Northwest, and elsewhere.

“What’s the sound of a voice wanting to help/but trapped inside the nets of helping? A man who knows loss like he knows rage, a first skin? In Distributary, Luke Johnson speaks that voice in thick and throbbing language, in lines where sound drives desire into burning. Between frenzy and a brick wall, we find that ‘. . . loss is a crater / where the living reside.’ But we also find pleasure, as Johnson washes us in love, even through the bullets of loss—with water rushing over us and through, over us and through—in these stunning, eloquent poems.” - Jan Beatty, author of Dragstripping“In Distributary, Luke Johnson courageously navigates the tumultuous landscapes of generational trauma, grief, and masculinity. Poem by poem, he unearths the past, exploring the weight of familial legacies—especially in the wake of his father’s death—against the backdrop of love and hope as he raises a family of his own. Above all, Distributary celebrates renewal. Johnson’s astonishing language surprises and satiates us, reminding us of life’s inevitable joys. Distributary is more than a book—it’s an experience that lingers long after you’ve turned the final page.” - Alexis Sears, author of Out of Order“Stark figurative language lends buoyancy to Luke Johnson’s Distributary where the speaker breaks away from the psychic ax blade and halts the centrifugal force of family trauma. In the heart of the book lies a poetic sequence that goes full Deep Image and strips the world down to its most elemental resonant images. These poems are grounded in the physical world, and when you touch these pages, you will get Earth on your fingers.” - Jeffrey McDaniel, author of Holidays in the Islands of Grief

• Author’s Note America What I mean when I say water Like Ruin Witching Stick What I mean when I say God Malignant I’ve been told to write about anything Chimera O Mother, The Music: With a Nod to Terrance Hayes To the therapist who says it’s time to move on Distributary Divining Carbon Pressure Fevered Clove: With a Nod to Brigit Pegeen Kelly Notes On Time Collapse § Memory § May 24th,2023 May 24th,2022 It has been so hard to write Boy Fury Olivia Rodrigo, Van Gogh, This Viscous Light Rupture Tether St. Veronica Sweetheart After The Funeral Beetroot DoppelgÄnger Dagger: With a Nod to Phil Levine On the first anniversary of my father’s death, I Bless The Mouth Acknowledgments About the Author