Jennifer Moore

Jennifer Moore (Poetry) | Bowling Green, OH

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Jennifer Moore is the author of The Veronica Maneuver, selected as the Editor’s Choice for the 2014 Akron Series in Poetry, and What the Spigot Said (High5 Press). Her poems have appeared in American Letters & Commentary, Best New Poets, Columbia Poetry Review, The Volta and elsewhere, and criticism has appeared in Jacket2, Spoke Too Soon: A Journal of the Longer, and The Offending Adam. A native of the Seattle area, she holds a B.A. in English from Mercyhurst University, an M.A. in creative writing from the University of Colorado at Boulder, and a Ph.D. in creative writing from the Program for Writers at the University of Illinois at Chicago. Jennifer is an assistant professor in the department of English at Ohio Northern University, where she teaches courses in literature and creative writing and coordinates the department’s reading series. Currently, she lives in Bowling Green, Ohio.


The Veronica Maneuver (U of Akron Press, 2015). Poetry.

Press & Reviews

In The Veronica Maneuver, each poem is a flammable mouth that refuses to be muzzled. Dazzling and dislocating the reader with ventriloquism, vaudevillian gowns, and sword swallowing, the book’s arresting tone is established by its torero title and first line—“In the Year of Our Lord the Electric Chair.” The sizzle, hazard (and humor) of Moore’s work dilates as she dismantles the commonplace with deft conjuring. Negotiating a space for women’s voices that is electric and multivalent, her poetry pivots on “making maneuvers look effortless,” and she is a masterful matador, unfurling the vibrant cloth of her poems to challenge and rouse us. These are “blood-dance” evocations deserving to be heard.
—Simone Muench

Jennifer Moore cuts right to the marrow and in so doing finds the marrow’s song. “Doesn’t each history,” she asks, “contain another body?” Perhaps this is her way of showing that our humanity is revealed in our woundedness. Yet in Moore’s lushly musical poems, it also means something stranger, mysterious—yes, something magical. The harmonies that fulfill these poems know grief as well as wit, intelligence, and empathy. This poet incises language with passion, not dispassion, until breath and pulse coalesce. In this fine book, “the absorber and the absorbed become one.”
—Elizabeth Robinson

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