I Follow in the Dust She Raises

Mother, father, brother, sister, husband, daughter, son populate this book. But these relationships, past or present, are not static. As they move in time and place—Montana, Idaho, Manhattan, Alaska—the poems map an inner geography, spaces of loss and acceptance, memory and survival. They are stepping stones through a life only as ordinary as the truth of art. Martin’s poems belie their artfulness almost with the ease of conversation; they ask for little but give much. Few poets can trace an itinerary of the heart with such distinctive grace and clarity. Stan Sanvel Rubin, author of There. Here. and Hidden Sequel

These are poems of a humane poet who has made communion with our great ancient stories: when she sweeps away loss, she discovers wonder, when she wipes away tears, she discovers play, and when she faces difficult deaths, she reminds us that we all must face our lives even when they skim 'lightly on the tide, white, fine as baby hair.' This is a splendid book of fire and desire. David Biespiel, author of The Book of Men and Women and A Thousand Faces

Martin’s I Follow in the Dust She Raises is the kind of poetry that invites the word luminous, so impoverished by overuse it can no longer light the inside of a bulb, much less invoke noonday. Too many blurbs have been attached to a series of lesser books that make the mistake of working nature by subtraction—assuming that an endless wheat field with a tractor in it under an immense Nebraska sky—offer a limned absence that by itself could bring us to metaphysical tears. . . . To simple but potent effect, Martin starts from zero and works by addition. Cleaver Magazine

Martin’s work will take you on one woman’s lifelong journey in pursuit of that intangible goal: to be content, a theme that her work so beautifully embodies. Perhaps if you faithfully journey through these pages with her, by the end, you will realize that you have found that same thing as well. Homer News