Forthcoming from Carnegie Mellon University Press, October 2017
There’s something tenacious and fierce about this vivid book, with its spinning, Metaphysical metaphors, quick turns of line, and unpredictable, dynamic, monologues in the voices of dispossessed people and things. In this poet’s hands, form means trying anything you can. Sometimes We’re All Living in a Foreign Country’s pages teem with a yearning for change. They live by their nerve in that ghostly small town our vast America can become inside a poem. But Rebecca Morgan Frank does more than withstand her own disorientation in the country she finds she must look at and try to see – she turns it into radar, second sight, an inestimable sixth sense, joining that home-grown company of visionary dissenters (I think of James Wright, or even Larry Levis) who have done the same. – Katie Peterson
A wind-blown straw slices through a telephone pole. Ranch houses tip and fall like rows of dominos. Trains rumble through a sleeping woman’s dreams. And somewhere, a twirling ballerina figurine longs to explore the world beyond her music box. So much happens in Morgan Frank’s intensely lyrical poems, accompanied by such subtle music and profound, often witty, meditations on love, loneliness, rapture and mortality. Sometimes We’re all Living in a Foreign Country is a beautiful book, one that asks us to see the everyday world anew, and discover in it marvelous strangeness.
– Kevin Prufer