Nancy Takacs's latest book Dearest Water was published in 2022 by Mayapple Press. Her dog Emma is a long-haired, 12-pound chihuahua.

Books by Nancy Takacs:

Other poems on the web by Nancy Takacs:
Two poems
Two poems
Two poems
"Destination"
Two poems

Nancy Takacs's Website.

Nancy Takacs on Twitter.

About Dearest Water:

"'Not enough are we guttural, or loving,' we read here and feel the truth of it in our animal bodies. In DEAREST WATER, Nancy Takacs explores a wide range of relationships, from the 'pickles' and 'mazes' of the human family to the 'shine of scorpions' and 'terrible miracle' of a bear's snout. These marvelous ecopoems help us feel more deeply and sensuously rooted even as they send us into the stars and more numinous questions of our kind. 'I like the word amethyst in my mouth,' writes Takacs in a rich music that would conjure the wonder--in every moment, in each of us--of being part of the living earth."
—Derek Sheffield

"'I am thirsty/ for the lost,' writes Nancy Takacs in the title poem of DEAREST WATER. The poems in this collection summon back and transform their lost ones, from the bluebells and silks of memory, to a mother's garden and ghost aunts, to the bodies and voices of earlier selves. They are thirsty, too, for wildness: the hunger of the bear, the poet's desire for 'the blue hip/ of a mountain,' the way God is 'snout and tentacle,/ a brazen hornet.' Through meditative verve and layers of acute lyric imagery, Takacs calls out to canyons and starlight, seeds and stones, with a stirring clarity of vision. Like the speaker who rakes sorrel and thistle to make room for the poppies, these poems clear the way for the most feral of blooms, 'their centers dark/ and alive as bees.'"
—Sally Rosen Kindred

"To read DEAREST WATER is to fall in love with leisure, to linger with the intimacy of sensuous description, with the flavors and colors of flowers, foods, fabrics, gardens, woods, and women. It's easy to fall in love with Takacs' writing, with the sounds of her lines, her slant rhymes, her halo/bungalow/bramble, her tentacle/coral/whorl, her tremble/sienna/fickle, her circus of cirrus. Easy to love the disparate objects and thoughts inhabiting the stanzas, living in bliss alongside each other, every fresh look a tingling surprise, little shocks pulsing up. And the endings are never what you think, always a new way to see, feel, and imagine, enhanced by an image that carries light, weight, music, escape, humor, insight. In this transcendent collection, poems open like red poppies discovered in the 'stubble of a fenceline.'"
—Star Coulbrooke