An old chest. Rosewood. No, camphor, aromatic, intricately carved, scenes from some fairy tale -- maiden tames fierce beast. Something you simply happen upon. Its contents stunning, treasure, garlands of pearls, gold coins, taffeta, rubies, emeralds, silks, velvets, musk, maybe even tweed. Dip your hands into it, bury your face in what’s lifted up, then spills back down through your fingers. Thus, the crisp, sweet language of Amoretti itself cascades, a gorgeous, elegant, yet fierce and precise, consistent delimitation. These poor words of mine lack all the beauty and subtlety of the poems they try so hard to tell you about, give you news of. Luscious and carnal, not a wrong note. Sterling music. Billie Chernicoff’s work surveys then traces a path through the garden of itself, never fumbles describing its captivities therein: animal, mineral, vegetal, angelic. Her rhetoric is flawless. Deceptively delicate, its vocabulary surprises. Just as the nuance of feeling remains absolute yet immediate. —Thomas Meyer For our words touch things (they do!) and, touching them, unbind this world. But nowhere, least of all in Billie’s poetry, is this unbinding any sort of loss. She has said “alkahest” stronger than anyone has, and has freed this world into our being, our measuring, our range we discover as we read her—how far and how near we can be in her spiritual sight. Meanwhile Billie waits with Solomon in her arms, waits a while under a native cedar, trusting all things, trees and you. She trusts the word, writes one, and allows this one, properly, all of the time in this world. She trusts the word and, when it is time, I am amazed to say, it praises her with its own completed silence. Then silence honors her with another word, this one, a sheaf of the world to come. —Joel Newberger
... Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, ... A Noiseless Patient Spider A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a ...
An anthology of some of the best English poems.
Combining journal entries, poetry and formal e-mails, these books celebrate the sights, sounds, flavors, (and the physical and mental strain), of crossing mountains, rolling landscapes, and unchanged rural villages, as well as vibrant ...
There are no Formal E-mails, no Definitions, no Autobiography or Research here. And because of all that it is not, this book completes those first two in the pilgrimage series in a gentle way.
Karen Freeman! Was born August 22, 1950 in Newark New Jersey. She had a “BRIGHT” daughter named Kira. She Married Warren W. C. Freeman March 1, 1998. They were married for 13 years and 20 days. She “PASSED-ON” March 21, 2011.
Winner of the Massachusetts Book Award "A terrific and sometimes terrifying collection—morally complex, rhythmic, tough-minded, and original." —Rosanna Warren, 2018 Barnard Women Poets Prize citation In a poetic voice at once accessible ...
O. D. Macrae Gibson points out that the function of pyȝt as a concatenating word stresses its capacity to mean both arrayed and set.8 Gordon glosses the word as varying in sense throughout the poem between “set,” “fixed,” and “adorned” ...
This riveting poetry collection is a fresh and witty account of thoughts and experiences that everyday people have in their day-to-day lives.
SELL. IT. SOMEWHERE. ELSE. Well, you can take your good looks somewhere else Cuz they're not for sale 'round here... I've heard about you and the things you do And I don't need you anywhere near. Yeah, I've met your kind a time or two ...
I was indeed fortunate in being able to recruit a pair of talented , conscientious , and unfailingly cheerful draftsmen in the persons of Julie Baker and Kathi Donahue ( now Sherwood ) to collaborate with my wife , Sally , in producing ...