The Cave

“Ryan Vine’s The Cave is a book of earthly wonders—from the electric squeeze of a young daughter’s tiny hand; to the grizzled old father bathing himself with an air hose at the end of his shift; to “that rigid, old fuck, / the red oak, mid-/ winter, clutching / its leaves in the wind.” These are poems that don’t let go, by a poet who sings of human love with grit and honesty and extraordinary tenderness.”  —Patrick Phillips

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“While the poems in The Cave are thoroughly contemporary, many of their philosophical underpinnings are as old as humanity itself. Vine's haunting meditations on fatherhood, for example, are as profound and enduring as any I've ever read. This is manly work, utterly masterful, and deeply moving.”

—Connie Wanek

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"THE CAVE is an unforgettable contribution to the poetry of paterfamilias written from deep inside “love’s austere and lonely offices,” as Robert Hayden put it. These poems are as indelible as scars—and just as full of ancient wisdom. Wonders abound: the cloud inside a dog’s eye, the way a lake holds up the sky. Ryan Vine’s poetry gives me that fully alive feeling, up to my neck in something I don’t quite know how to swim and am glad for." —Dobby Gibson

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“Ryan Vine enters into "The Cave" to mine the poetry of fatherhood, of childhood, to dip his cup into the underground river where those twinned currents meet and mingle their wisdom and unknowing. These open-hearted poems are crafty and beautifully crafted, vessels forged of swerving enjambment, sly slant rhyme, flickering illusions of endless imagination and mythic resonance—even Homer's cache of epic similes is plundered—all to hold the ache and tenderness of what can't be held: the hope and fear in trying to teach our kids to see what waits beyond the horizon when we can't see it ourselves, of living in a world where everything we love will disappear.”

—Michael Bazzett​​​