Saturn Returns

<h1><em>Saturn Returns </em></h1><h2>a new poetry collection by Charline Tetiyevsky</h2><p><br></p><p>At turns heartbreaking and punishingly funny this latest collection of poems by Charline Charlie Tetiyevsky explores the astrological concept of the Saturnic return a heralding of adulthood signaled by the roughly 30-year path that Saturn takes to travel around the sun from someone's date of birth. By setting the collection within the astrological frameworks by which some millennials and their ancestors have found meaning Tetiyevsky suggests that poetry like astrology can at its best work as a cross-generational cipher.</p><p><br></p><p>The first full-length book of poetry from the author of <em>Things to Keep the Living Alive</em> <em>Saturn Returns</em> is an experimental occasionally ironic examination of quarter-life love and loss filtered through the hectic dissociatively digital culture of the nascent space age. </p><p><br></p><h3>About the Book</h3><p><strong>Saturn Returns</strong></p><p>Poetry First Edition (January 2023)</p><p>84 pages</p><ul><li>Softcover with color cover</li><li>54 poems</li><li>Features B&W archival photographs of Saturn and its moons by NASA</li></ul><p><br></p><h3>Excerpts </h3><h4>The Day The Teenagers on the Train Dressed Like We Did in 4th Grade</h4><p>It was that hazy see-thru mesh crop top </p><p>with the digital print of the Birth of Venus that aged me.</p><p>I was like damn where'd the time go?</p><p>Remember when all of the computers were </p><p>supposed to shut down shit do I wish they </p><p>had done it shit do I wish every last pager </p><p>and bubble-backed Mac had all gone black</p><p>and the clocks had all turned to blink </p><p>00:00:00 and :00 and :00 forever </p><p>til the light made us sick and we turned off </p><p>the boxes</p><p>and we threw away the monitors </p><p>we piled them high in a landfill with all our </p><p>other open embarrassments and while we </p><p>cracked a book we exhaled hard and said </p><p>sheesh we said</p><p>shit that was close like</p><p>damn didn't we almost nearly turn our </p><p>spines into themselves like a nautilus </p><p>like an ouroboros didn't we almost swallow </p><p>our own feet just to spite our mouths?</p><p><br></p><p><strong>THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING</strong></p><p>This is a book of poems about the methane horizon and how the expanse of unknowable solitude behind it is peppered with dead stars that persist only in photo-memories.</p><p>This is a book of poems for the people except!</p><p>the people who want to jettison themselves into space: why just to ache? for trees and for their fires while everyone else laughs</p><p>until it hurts. Sorry fellas but I'm not missing out on the fun so</p><p>this is a book of poems to be left on the world whose toes burn</p><p>into a beautiful ground whose heads lift to linger longer on this ship whipping through the long-lost sky</p><p>than those sailing on the</p><p>fastest fuel culled by man; so like</p><p><br></p><p><span style=color: rgba(201 158 159 1)>  </span>Have a good flight.</p>