From Buddhist Zoom groups to (what sounds like) the best Bodega in NY, Elizabeth J. Coleman summons an experiment in radical perception. Following a brush with cancer, she returns in 2026 to inspire with a poetry collection defined by a question on all of our minds – 

How do I want to spend

my remaining years on this planet?

  Coleman’s connection to poetry is one that very much stems from childhood, a mother who helped her understand a certain depth of writing. The process of re-reading, re-listening, of deep listening to work – to everything around you. Mega-Galaxies pulls up to the table and reminds us this isn’t some unobtainable artist’s term – but a holistic, lived in one. In their own words – “Paying attention is spiritual practice” – and a concept that has some miles on it.

The collection kicks off with the titular poem Mega-Galaxies, inspired by Coleman’s Zoom based Buddhist group – a spiritual element which goes on to define a lot of the collection’s beats. There’s a clear musical flow to the work, tucked into the tight, two, three line stanzas which (especially read aloud) methodically spring up from the page like an invitation rather than a demand. This poetry isn’t static but moves at different paces – it creates rhythms you want to follow.

  While it experiments with different structures at points with numbering systems and elongated verse in poems like Sardinia or Wintercress, Coleman does stick to familiar pace. But this isn’t repetition, it’s reliability. An aid for attunement. It does so without going in too hard on conclusions and endings to each piece. Several poems end on these beautifully open motifs which only compound the emotional depth – “you with your moustache, me with my freshly combed hair” (In The Morning In The City)  or  “summer sweet corn crop, fresh milk, musty smell of hay” (Sitting Next to You at a Hospital) 

  As playful and explorative as the poetry can be, it always ends on a remarkably tangible, effectively poignant note. People in Mega Galaxies exist simultaneously in the past and future, while always being mindful of some concept of the present.

“you played with the twins in the waves, 

and our son, in his mid-forties now, 

did perfect handstands on the beach” 

(Windhovers) 

  The images are always in multiples, every glimpse into Coleman’s histories and selves are joined at the hip with some brushstroke of the natural word. 

Every poem is an attempt to take deep rooted concepts – notably the moving depiction of family grief in Strategem – and then stretches them out like dough. While there are points this hits home a little less effectively with some slightly heavy handed ‘hope-core’ delivery in poems like a Lucky Human, the collection is overwhelmingly successful in treating this process with delicacy and care – never losing the micro in the macro.

  Mega Galaxies is poetry with a realistic mantra, deliberately mapped out rather than relentlessly ‘positive’. It’s an encouragement to consider how you want to spend your years on this planet – not just in terms of what you do but manner in which you do it. As concise as it is expansive, this is a refreshingly precise work that always makes the effort to keep you present in its poems.

Mega Galaxies is available to purchase via the store at Driftwood Press

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