The speaker of these poems manages to assert a particular presence almost as often as he confesses to being lost.  In this way, he is like everyone and no one.  In his world, veins are roads, and aren’t they?  The poem, that antique navigational instrument, in the hands of one as skilled as Cameron McGill, leads us somewhere we would otherwise never go.  “Beauty, our first – wildword in summer, dangerous perennial,” he writes.  Read him.  Let him take you there.  -Robert Wrigley

To read Cameron McGill’s poetry is to enter a psychological and physical landscape of such vivid and original imagination that, like a place that belongs in Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities, the only possible map seems to be the very poems you’re reading.  McGill’s language creates new, urgent coordinates for family and lost love and trying to understand one’s own mind – the speaker is “going somewhere three sentences from safety.”  You will want to go with him.  This is one of the most lyrically stunning and compelling collections of poems I’ve read in years.  -Alexandra Teague

In Meridians, pure art courses through every located and dislocated facet f the self.  McGill’s lyrical virtuosity and electrifies, harrowing introspection make for poems rife with the entanglements of a lived life.  Ultimately, this book needs no endorsement – it runs deep and burns with an inimitable fire.  -Michael McGriff

Meridians gives poetry a place to dwell, and the speaker navigates to the appointed coordinates “by lake rock / & latitude.”  Its edgy reveries are nocturnal, when the “dark cargo” of memory gets sorted, and forms in the night are frost or fawns or embers, good company for a distant father’s son who has come far enough to credit “the license your silence gives me to love you.”  To read these poems is to join that careful company, to keep vigil and, in that filial stillness, to “listen / for the doorslam.”  -Brian Blanchfield