Award-winning poet Jeanne Wagner was born in San Francisco and grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area.
She is the author of seven poetry collections. Her first full-length book, The Zen Piano-Mover, won the 2004 Stevens Manuscript Prize. Her most recent book is Everything Turns Into Something Else (2020).
Jeanne's poems have appeared in numerous poetry journals and anthologies. She is the recipient of a number of national awards.
She is the author of seven poetry collections. Her first full-length book, The Zen Piano-Mover, won the 2004 Stevens Manuscript Prize. Her most recent book is Everything Turns Into Something Else (2020).
Jeanne's poems have appeared in numerous poetry journals and anthologies. She is the recipient of a number of national awards.
A poem from Everything Turns Into Something Else
We Were Sirens
Like all hybrids, we were liminal; we were
child-women, bird-women, nobody’s daughters.
We were birds of prey, we prayed to be beautiful,
we believed in seduction as a victimless crime.
We hung out on beaches and boardwalks, on
piers and sidewalks, on porch-swings and perch
swings. We milled through the parks, the malls.
At home we wrapped our new bodies in fables,
in pious cages of silk, in soft libidinous songs.
In spring we envied the swallows who whirled
like lariats over freshly sown fields. In summer
we dreamed of sailors, of sinners; we listened
for the sound of speedboats skimming the bay,
our ears tuned to the thrum of escape. We
were bird-made, were bridesmaids, we dived
down so fast our hearts became weightless,
our throats made shrieks like Stukas splitting
the air. Some heard this as a warning, some
as a wail. Still, others knew it was song.
Like all hybrids, we were liminal; we were
child-women, bird-women, nobody’s daughters.
We were birds of prey, we prayed to be beautiful,
we believed in seduction as a victimless crime.
We hung out on beaches and boardwalks, on
piers and sidewalks, on porch-swings and perch
swings. We milled through the parks, the malls.
At home we wrapped our new bodies in fables,
in pious cages of silk, in soft libidinous songs.
In spring we envied the swallows who whirled
like lariats over freshly sown fields. In summer
we dreamed of sailors, of sinners; we listened
for the sound of speedboats skimming the bay,
our ears tuned to the thrum of escape. We
were bird-made, were bridesmaids, we dived
down so fast our hearts became weightless,
our throats made shrieks like Stukas splitting
the air. Some heard this as a warning, some
as a wail. Still, others knew it was song.
Praise for 'Everything Turns Into Something Else'
These are poems about desire, about the intricate complications of family; and these are poems that move easily between the personal and the larger issues of human life. full of wonderful metaphorical transformations, of one thing turning into something else, Everything Turns Into Something Else is a highly crafted and well organized book of poems in which the poems form a whole that is greater than its parts.
--Robert Cording, author of Finding the World's Fullness: On Poetry, Metaphor, and Mystery