The stranger had a wound he couldn’t see—you knew him by his breast’s troubled breath. When he drank his third cup he knew himself again: those roses he wore as a crown shed all their petals on the ground. Someone scorched him badly. I swear, gods, the image I sing dances true: a robber-bee myself, I know the pollen-trace a thief leaves behind.
was born in Chicago and raised in Colorado and upstate New York. He was educated at Hamilton College, the University of Denver, and the University of Iowa.
Drawing its material from a wide range of sources, Beachy-Quick’s poetry is often united by a focused engagement with the fabric of sound and the pattern of echoes. In a review of Mulberry for Jacket Magazine, poet Tim Kahl noted, “[J]uxtaposing and intermingling a strangely patterned nature with an equally strangely patterned domestic life, Beachy-Quick draws a haunting parallel between the realm of nature and the realm of the human.” Beachy-Quick’s work has been supported by the Lannan Foundation. He teaches at Colorado State University, where he is a university distinguished teaching scholar.
