Lisa Fishman’s latest collection, One Big Time , is a stunning articulation of the author’s “journey-in-place” in the environs around a one-room cabin in Northeastern Ontario over a period of fourteen days in quarantine. Here is the author at her most exacting and exploratory, in poems that hew with lyric precision to the immediate physical and geologic environment. At the same time, language is an alert, mobile life-form in active investigation of what one thinks one understands, and of where one thinks one is. While the poet quests daily for a passageway from one body of water into another, words live in other words (“the hemlock / is a he / today”), and acrostics are illuminations: s-w-i-m is “sleek widening instant’s magnet.” Surprised by joy, these biocentric poems offer a way of being in the world with wonder and rigor––attentive enough to be lost, unknowing enough to be changed. Previous Praise MAD WORLD, MAD KINGS, MAD COMPOSITION "Lisa Fishman’s Mad World, Mad Kings, Mad Composition enacts an engaging statement of personal poetics offering up a kind of secular reliquary." — Patrick James Dunagan, Colorado Review "Poetry as interaction, as a way of being in the world, Fishman suggests, is also a way to sustain a life. The writing process, while ephemeral, nevertheless creates its own kind of cyclical order. Writing isn’t a way to extract truths. Rather, poetry as process creates a life through its ongoing interactions with the world." — Emily Barton Altman, Annulet 24 PAGES AND OTHER POEMS "This is a world in the midst of creation, an Ars Poetica of everything..." — Publishers Weekly "Like Clare, Fishman can ramble; her friendly, loose-woven writing, with its lack of transitions, can feel like erasure. She also yearns 'to hear past words of the self,' to bring other people’s voices into her poems—the people who wrote the books she read, and the human beings who share her rural Wisconsin life." — Stephen Burt, Boston Review Lisa Fishman is the author of eight books of poetry, a short story collection, and several chapbooks. Her newest poetry book is One Big Time , out on Wave Books in spring, 2025. World Naked Bike Ride was published in Canada by Gaspereau Press in 2022 and was a finalist for the Canadian ReLit Award in short fiction. Other Wave poetry titles are Mad World, Mad Kings, Mad  Composition (2020) and 24 Pages and other poems  (2015). Fishman is also the author of three books on Ahsahta Press:  F L O W E R  C A R T  (2011);  The Happiness Experiment  (2007); and Dear, Read (2002); the latter was selected by Brenda Hillman as a finalist for the Sawtooth Poetry Prize. Fishman’s other books are Current (Parlor Press, 2011) and The Deep Heart’s Core is a Suitcase  (New Issues Press, 1996). Fishman’s work is anthologized in  Best American Experimental Writing (Omnidawn, 2014, ed. Cole Swenson),  The Ecopoetry Anthology  (Trinity University Press, 2013),  The Arcadia Project: North American Postmodern Pastoral  (Ahsahta Press, 2012),  Not For Mothers Only  (Fence Books, 2007),  American Poetry: The Next Generation  (Carnegie-Mellon University Press, 2000) and elsewhere. She is a dual US/Canadian with earlier roots in both the Detroit area and Montreal. July 10–13 you could just say    not anything    in the forest under hemlock      waterbeing going by     meant to write waterbody   but it came out waterbeing under treebody   ––––   it’s different outside how the ground is warm: springy, moss-covered and root-traversed, very warm                           underfoot, under trees’              shade                the borrowed cabin’s new laminate floor makes your feet very cold          what else     for the loves   ––––   The current of the lake is swift like a river is it a river? I ask but no one says yes or no one knows because it is a lake that merges w/other lakes I ask for a map but                           none appears   Water being one that flows: F L O W - e r                                        gets to                open in              the swim morning, night &        in between    all day              Day all a bird      sound makes off to the side             —can’t say which direction but you know over the shoulder, not far   the names of friends pop in across the page and then my father’s handwriting for a few words where I see he made his f s and g s different from mine         there’s the water   moving swiftly      this forest     ––––     Have not found the passage to the other lake just to the left of downed trees    where someone pointed I set off in my boat twice and the first time did not find it &                                    the second time              did not find it   In between he asked                           if I found it No I said but will look again It’s marshy he said              and I set off again looking more closely where you might get thru a marshy, hidden passage but it stayed hidden so I’ll look again alth