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About the Author
Jenny Grassl is a poet and visual artist. Her poems have appeared in Poetry International, Tupelo Quarterly, Bennington Review, Lana Turner Journal, Heavy Feather Review, Lit, The Grolier Prize, Ocean State Review, Laurel Review, and elsewhere, including The Boston Review where she was a runner-up for the annual prize, selected by Mary Jo Bang. She is the author of Magicholia and Forever Mistaken for Ourselves, and her artwork has been exhibited widely, including at the Joyce Goldstein Gallery, Fort Point Arts Community Gallery, and Janapa Gallery. She received her BFA in photography from Rhode Island School of Design, her MFA in creative writing from Bennington Writing Seminars, and her soul degree from Lucie Brock-Broido’s Sargent St. Workshop. Originally from Collegeville, Pennsylvania, she lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Format: Paperback
Published: December 2026
ISBN: 9781961209718
Advanced Praise
“In Forever Mistaken For Ourselves, the line we draw between our human bodies and those of animals, or even plants, is blurred to the point of almost full metamorphosis. It is amazing to read Grassl’s language, a shimmering membrane which moves between describing and revealing this phenomenological experience. It is like aging – being in a body but watching as it becomes so other to myself, and in this mirror, I am unrecognizable. And, so I do become more comfortable with my limbs of deer antler, my skin of bee, and my mind of crawling meadows. That Grassl captures the delicate, changing form of the human even as we evolve beyond ourselves is nothing short of remarkable.” — Kristin Prevallet, author of A Varied and Tender Multiplicity
“Forever Mistaken For Ourselves, with its mirrors, shifting identities and transformations, feels not so much composed as received from a magical realm. Here, misogyny, the disappearing ecology and the limitations of language itself are met with lush, rebellious imagery. From Nomenclature: so you fill The Forgettery/ that soiled-linen-gray mausoleum cabinet/in the side of the mountain/with labeled shelves for lost words/and doors. In Flower of Empire: The Two-night Life and Sex Change of Victoria Amazonica, a protogynous lily named for Queen Victoria possesses both female and male reproductive organs in turn: I astonish in a white dress/my never whole/spectacle woman tough-gloried/out of the shell of spines/a body/in hundreds of pieces/petals arranged/by a god who was sorry. Without traditional lineation, these poems are cast across the entire page. White spaces between words and stanzas create breath, pulse and rhythm with all the leaps and surprises of a jazz score. One of the most original poets writing today, Jenny Grassl has created an astonishing work of lyric architecture.” — Julia Thacker, author of To Wildness
“With a flicker of Brock-Broido and a fringe of Dickinson, Grassl swims us through an ornate up-river so that we react perhaps with heart, instead of head, with gut and also god.” — Jennifer Militello, author of Identifying the Pathogen
“A syllabic ecstasy mirroring that of the night sky and starlight. Echoic in their magic, these poems answer fact with fable and ephemera with deeply rooted imagery and home truths.” — Donald Revell, author of Canandaigua
“This is pastoral dipped in fire and swelling with song, an immersive experience unlike in any poetry currently popular. This is Grassl’s world, unmistakable and riveting.” — Joan Houlihan, author of It Isn’t a Ghost If It Lives in Your Chest
“Deploying associative images and white space on the page, each line is spell casting—” — Robert Carr, author of Blue Memento