O Holy Insurgency, o hymn to sacred transgressions, to Eros’ transubstantiations, to the beloved as doppelganger, as double-dog dare, as flaming conflagration of holy spirit that both purifies and destroys, and will not be quenched or exorcised. These poems, with their crisp pivots and dove-tail joints, rise from the dingy quotidian of the American rust belt like the electric glitter of a welder’s torch. They spark and tingle like a 9-volt battery placed upon the tongue. -Lee Ann Roripaugh
Mary Biddinger’s second full-length poetry collection, O Holy Insurgency, wrenches the love poem out of the terrain of hearts and flowers, and transplants it into a gritty Midwestern paradise where broken glass becomes a shimmering beacon, and no river is too polluted to dazzle a pair of lovers on its banks. The emotional landscape of this book is at once holy and unholy, concerned with the spirit as much as the body, and convinced that the two can never part, despite the fiscal swoon and threat of war. Fearless and bold, like a wink to a stranger in a crowded room, Biddinger’s O Holy Insurgency chronicles both triumph and struggle, a testament to a world as sacred as it is doomed.