The Hummingbird

The Hummingbird by Matt Longabucco is both in love and a protection curse—theta—or its denser more characteristic sounds. Whether downtown, in the vegetal, on mountaintops, at the Krispy Kreme or the movies, we’re mostly outside the house and a poet is acutely present in human songs. The Hummingbird brings the poet and everything else into vividness, even if one has poor reception. What about the world anymore, the poems also ask while inhabiting fractal expansion. Longabucco’s language forms what can only be touched, here, in these poems, orchid-like, opening to us, talismanic—like a promise. The Hummingbird is dazzling. Heroic.

With velocity and range, Matt Longabucco offers us a version of our world, tuned by his open heart and attitude. What he finds there, in our present tense, is not always pretty, but the music is so fucking good! The Hummingbird savors what it uncovers with propulsive, darting intelligence: the sour and the fragrant; what serves us, and how we serve each other through song so we can survive.