Field Notes from the Flood Zone
During the course of one year, I traveled around, looking at the landscape and its people. This is what I observed.
The Present State of the Garden
My new collection is a memoir in poetry, telling the story of three intertwined losses: childhood, a marriage, and Edenic Florida. Available from Lynx House Press.
"Tuesday with Oars" appears in issue 10 of The Bennington Review.
"Dinner on the Patio, December," appears in Blackbird.
"Run" appears in the e-journal The Tiger Moth Review,
"On a Late June Evening in My Driveway" appears in Narrative, as a poem of the week in June 2021.
"Accidental Practitioners" appears in Agni, Issue 91 Spring 2020.
Two poems appear in the March 2020 issue of The Sun Magazine.
"Protection," a piece from my prose poetry series, appears in issue 30 of The Adroit Journal.
"Unloose" appears in The Sun.
I have poems in recent issues of Southern Poetry Review, Five Points, Salamander, and Prairie Schooner.
A sequence of new poems set in various aspects of the Florida landscape. Chapbook published by Yellow Jacket Press.
The Boys I Borrow
The Boys I Borrow is a collection of poems about becoming a step-mother while coming to terms with a difficult childhood. The volume was a finalist for the James Laughlin Award for a second book of poetry. Published by New Issues Press.
“Many of these sensitive, clever poems are about navigating the new waters of a non-traditional family. The result is a cohesive, engaging collection in which a real heroine persona explores the often challenging terrain of the domicile.” — Billy Collins
“....all of our wonderfully banal and beautiful world rendered in painterly precision and tender humor. This is a book that sustains.” — Beth Ann Fennelly
Drinking Girls and Their Dresses
"The poems in this book tell a story set in a Florida both lush and oppressive, where similar paradoxes confront the child who would be both open to everything and permanently safe." Published by Ahsahta Press.
"Heather Sellers's poems take us back—where?—to the first taste of our whereness, the fresh instant click of yes, that, or no, absolutely not, it was this and this and this. Be careful. These poems can be wonderfully dangerous: jumpy, radiant." — Marianne Boruch