onights final cover copy

Paperback Price: $15.95
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-938584-11-4

Ebook Price: $9.99
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-938584-20-6

Selected Poem


I borrowed an axe
so heavy I had to drag it
through the woods.

Branches couldn’t catch
the geese or the sliding sun
and the mud-streaked axe blade

and my mud-streaked dress
took on a violet sheen.
I would build a house

to be lonely in. Across
the pond a train grated
through trees. From the woods

came the voice of foxes’ paws
in leaves. From the air
an owl voice pleading

with the moon.
I asked the trees for boards,
shingles, laths

before I swung the axe
to split a birch.
I only nicked it.

The tree began to weep.
I licked what it wept.
I would own the forest.


“In Cecily Parks’ luminous and graceful poems, thought inhabits the wilderness, and wildness permeates the interior of human perception. Within these nightscapes, we find ourselves among the foxes, watching, listening, aware of our role as trespassers and witnesses. Thinking about weapons, thinking about how a wound heals, thinking about words, captured, released, spilling over, following a sound that seems at once ancient and new.”
—Elizabeth Willis

“In Cecily Parks’ beautiful poems, the natural world teeters between being and seeming—the seeming a simulacrum projected onto the world by a mind’s yearning, taxonomy and dread. Deeply metaphysical, and deeply attentive to our spiritual as well as physical uses and abuses of nature, O’Nights implicates language’s—indeed, lyric poetry’s—sad role in this endeavor.”
—Susan Wheeler

“Parks has strange, special eyes, and she sees the world unlike anyone else. In this book she’s discovered or uncovered a new (and by that I mean an overlooked ancient) kind of metaphor: how a thing  is more itself in its brokenness, in its reasserted self; a way for this to not merely be that—as in ordinary metaphors— but for this to be ever more this, no compromise, no lie, no way out. There is always more there, where Cecily Parks’ poetry is. Anything she looks at cannot shy away from her vision, revision, respect and re-creation. There is a weird world here, a beautiful and deep world (far from the untethered and glib musings skating on the surface of other kinds of contemporary poetry) that has wild air, real animals, a skin of weather and wonder, somehow hardcore, unflinching, the way a goddess might rule it. Parks is the golden voice of this world, singing in harmony that long song that only real poetry knows. Absolutely breathtaking.
—Brenda Shaughnessy


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