Jessica Purdy teaches Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University. In 2014, she was nominated for Best New Poets and Best of the Net. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College. She lives in Exeter, New Hampshire.
Book: Sleep in a Strange House
Chapbook: Learning the Names
Upcoming Readings & Events
Poems published in
Wickford Poetry and Art Anthology
Sleep in a Strange House
Praise for Sleep in a Strange House
You will not catch a wink of sleep when reading Jessica Purdy’s most recent collection, Sleep in a Strange House where both body and soul wrestle with what it means to be at home. Purdy’s poems are brooding, sexual, surreal, and grounded. And they are exquisite. She places the domestic side by side with the horrific, where ideas are percolating beneath what appear to be flat surfaces. She jolts us awake with juxtaposed lines such as, "I am making a cake. I am making a heart/for my dad.” And “The odds of being injured/are the same as the impossibility of belonging.” Ideas and images abound. The best poems pose questions that go unanswered and hold disparate ideas with equanimity exemplified by “The Lump in my Throat Appears without Warning” and “In What Room of the Soul do Moments Go." It’s a dark journey, but not all is despair. The collection ends with a voice akin to song. No flinching. No answers. Pure poetry.
Mimi White, author of The Last Island
“Nothing disturbs me quite like madness,” asserts the speaker of Jessica Pudy’s poem, “After Reading Plath.” But not since Sylvia Plath’s poems about motherhood in Ariel have I encountered such a deeply, deliciously deranged expression of the disturbances of being a mother and a self in our disturbed and deranged world as in Purdy’s aptly named collection, Sleep in A Strange House. In dreams and out of them, this brutally frank confrontation with the work of parenting (parenting both one’s self and one’s children) talks back to those who would reduce mothering to a series of quaint conditionals. Talks back in a timbre that is memorable for its mettle, in a voice that is at once hypnotic and homespun, in craft that spars with a sly bravura, and in lines that joust with disquieting fondness.
Tom Daley, author of House You Cannot Reach: Poems in the Voice of My Mother and Other Poems
Praise for STARLAND
From the trapdoors and “spy/code” that once enchanted her while reading Nancy Drew, to bumblebees struck by frost “still sucking from the cups/ of blossoms,” Jessica Purdy feels the pulse of mystery underlying ordinary life. Purdy negotiates the bumpy terrain of responsibility, loneliness, dreams, and estrangement in poems that often begin in the natural world and end with meditations on her place in the family landscape. Cover to cover, STARLAND is a complex, deeply felt, and finely written book.
Joyce Peseroff, author of Know Thyself
While the poems in STARLAND ultimately explore transcendence and transformation, they are not afraid to re-draw and blur the many fine lines between reality and dream. Between the imagination and language. In doing so, they situate the reader on those lines, wise with their questions and humorous with their doubts. This is a book of poems by a poet who knows the world is made up of questions, and that all the questions between “Did Jesus really exist?”, and / “Who made these mittens?” are not only equal, but wise in the asking alone. This is also a poet who knows, “Nothing will happen today / or everything I fear might―”. Reading these wise poems, one walks away feeling less isolated walking their own blurred lines, and glad to meet a fellow traveler along the way.
S Stephanie - author of So This Is What It Has Come To
Learning the Names
Praise for Learning the Names
While the poems in Jessica Purdy's Learning the Names are armed with a reality made in the image of those most overshadowed of gods they more often than not move and unfold with the logic and intensity of dreams, multi-filing and lifting off from these infinitely-felt memories, their assorted voices just coming to, recovering, what once was thought unfailingly lost, not only by naming but re-christening, striking a-new, thus attaining this unseen kind of omen-status, so camera-ready and ever-inventive, so dramatically and menacingly available at times, they gain one a sort of newly sung reason, understanding
Mark DeCarteret, author of FLAP (Finishing Line Press, 2011)
Jessica Purdy charges everyday acts with the power of transformation. Outside her door, the wing feathers of a pigeon are 'splayed open in a version of praying hands;' walking alone, lust becomes 'like a blue river churning dirt,/ a river that dumps itself/ depleted at the origin.' Questions of love, mortality, and the strangeness of being sing through these beautifully observed poems of discovery and reinvention.
Joyce Peseroff, author of Eastern Mountain Time (Carnegie Mellon, 2006)