Hannah V Warren’s second full-length poetry collection Hurricane Pastoral (Sundress Publications, January 2026) will soon be available for pre-order. Info about pre-orders will appear here, in her newsletter, and on social media.

Praise for Hurricane Pastoral

“In Hurricane Pastoral, Hannah V Warren renders girlhood as a strange, polyvocal, embodied experience at the blurred nexus of species. This collection is grotesque in one of the word’s original senses, evoking chimerical beings, part flora and part fauna, full of allure and alarm. With a collective voice singing boldly of the unclean and the imperfect, these rousing poems throw elbows against the confining expectations of polite gender performances, tossing roaches, muck, and broken glass right up against notions of the so-called holy and pure, laughing as they go.”
—Gabrielle Bates, author of Judas Goat

“Hurricane Pastoral depicts a metamorphic realm of rot & rupture; the girls who run riot here are presidents of the profane: ‘eat us,’ they declare, ‘& you eat the actual body of Christ.’ Hannah V Warren deconstructs the monstrous and the feminine into the pulp of the Anthropocene (‘the silken broth of the earth’) and resurrects not one single thing but the state of becoming itself, a ceaseless antic transformation of the human, the brackish, the machinic. This book is full of vigor and damage; it’s ‘ambient & exorbitant,’ gothic & baptismal—it is a feast!
—Aditi Machado, author of Material Witness

“Hurricane Pastoral is a chorus at the edge of catastrophe. The collection’s speaker, often a communal ‘we’—all us girls—summons the Oceanids witnessing Io’s suffering: these are songs of grief and resilience, of empathy and refusal. Hannah V Warren’s poems flicker with ‘fire & brimstone like low candles’; they bust at the seams; they sparkle with eroticism and blasphemy. ‘& the damage feels like home,’ Warren writes, reminding us of the ‘profound unfamiliarity’ of survival. Warren haunts like Spanish moss in a Southern gothic. She twangs. She insists. She reverberates.”
—Jenny Molberg, author of The Court of No Record