Tuckasee by B.J. Wilson

The subject here is a sacred corner of God’s earth—western Kentucky and Tennessee—that the poet knows intimately and in which he has invested both labor and love. In return, the place has honored his nurturant care by speaking through his voice the truth of the natural world, in poems that are visceral before they are cerebral…These poems, this poet, are the real deal.
–T. Crunk, Living in the Resurrection

Tuckasee vibrates with a shadowed luminosity like the shafts of sunlight that sometimes await us in the recesses of swamps, caverns, and old-growth forests. Wilson’s lines take us “…deeper into the green-dark, crashing through / undergrowth, more real than hoofprints.” They feature a poet sluicing and sinking—through the sloughs of memory and form, isolation and relationships.
–Julie Hensley, The Language of Horses

These are luminous poems—delicately crafted, skillfully wrought, full of gentle wonders. Wilson is a careful, canny observer of nature, but his works offer far more than mere description or naturalistic reportage. In short, Wilson is the real thing, and his is an exciting and distinctive new voice.
–Young Smith, In a City You Will Never Visit