Inhoudsopgave:
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\u003cP\u003eIdra Novey's first collection in a decade, since Patricia Smith chose \u003cI\u003eExit, Civilian\u003c/I\u003e for the National Poetry Series, brings a lyric intimacy to the extremes of our era. The poems juxtapose sweltering days raising children in a city with moments from a rural childhood roaming free in the woods, providing a bridge between those often polarized realities. Novey's spare, contemporary fables move across the Americas, from a woman housesitting in central Chile, surrounded by encroaching fires, to a man in New York about to give birth to a panda. \u003c/P\u003e\u003cP\u003eOther poems return to the Allegheny Highlands of Appalachia, where Novey revisits the roads and creeks of her childhood: \"Maybe we knew we only appeared/to be floating, but soon and wholly/we'd go under.\" Like Lydia Davis and Anne Carson, Novey draws from the well of her work translating myriad authors, from Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector to Iranian poet Garous Abdolmalekian, and from her own award-winning novels. These are deeply lived poems, evoking both a singular life and the shared urgencies of our time, a collection of great inventiveness and wit, conjuring our \"bit part in the history of the future.\"\u003c/P\u003e\u003cP\u003e[sample text]\u003c/P\u003e\u003cP\u003e\u003cB\u003eThe Duck Shit at Clarion Creek\u003c/B\u003e\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eWe liked to stick it in a BB gun and shoot it.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eWe tattooed with it.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eWe said Hallelujah, the poor man's tanning lotion.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eThen the frack wells began, something black capping the water and we got high watching a green-backed heron die.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eWe got funny at Clarion, flung each other's underwear into the trees.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eWhy was it we got naked there like nowhere else?\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eMaybe we knew we were getting rusted inside as the trucks we rode into the water.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eMaybe we only appeared to be floating, but soon and wholly we'd go under, get sucked to the bottom.\u003cBR\u003e \u003cBR\u003eWe'd sink and become creek bed; its deep mud would claim us, hold us hard and close.\u003c/P\u003e |
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