Poet David Winter’s debut collection, Safe House, is a svelte but fierce chapbook . . .
These are songs for the calloused and discontent.
—Emily Rose Larsen for Heavy Feather Review
As David Winter insists in his poem “The Field,” we must “Know the field,//pungent and sun-touched, is both more and less/than a field.” Contained within its cultivated cycles of growth and harvest are, beneath the horizon and our notice, lives and deaths we cannot control. It is this carnal joy and decay that Winter writes his poems in praise and memory of. In lines decorous and restrained, Winter builds us a Safe House that is anything but safe, where our passionate bodies are thoroughly at home. —Kathy Fagan, author of Lip
David Winter’s Safe House is a dense and untamed collection. With marked precision and rich language, the poems tug, lure, and serenade you into a labyrinth of unexpected tales. Some toothy and smart-mouthed, others demure and at times devious, Winter’s poems change the world you thought you knew. —Jeanann Verlee, author of Racing Hummingbirds
This collection is full of absence, loss, heartbreak and most importantly, a reclaiming of the voice. What I found fascinating is Winter’s interrogation of maleness and bodyness — a gay mob boss meets his lover, Abraham studies his son, a man is released to his family on parole. These poems know that all love carries risk. —Hannah Stephenson, author of In the Kettle, the Shriek
The poems somehow find a fulcrum in a space that occupies both violence and compassion. They are gentle poems, but unafraid to illustrate for their readers some of the complicated questions we seem to face so often we hardly realize it – questions, for example, about how we treat those we love, especially after we love them, when we have entered that odd space that we tend to call “moving on.” —Molly Rector for the Daily Record