Book-length series of poems that mimics schizophrenia's associative riffing and constructs an intimate and stirring portrait of vibrant, unsteady mind.
Book-length series of poems that mimics schizophrenia's associative riffing and constructs an intimate and stirring portrait of vibrant, unsteady mind.Hinweis: Dieser Artikel kann nur an eine deutsche Lieferadresse ausgeliefert werden.
Steven Cramer is the author of four previous poetry collections: The Eye that Desires to Look Upward, The World Book, Dialogue for the Left and Right Hand, and Goodbye to the Orchard (Sarabande Books, 2004), which won the 2005 Sheila Motton Prize from the New England Poetry Club and was a 2005 Honor Book in Poetry by the Massachusetts Center for the Book. His poems and criticism have appeared in numerous literary journals and anthologies, including The Atlantic Monthly, FIELD, The Nation, The New Republic, The Paris Review, Poetry , and Triquarterly ; as well as in the first and second edition of The Autumn House Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry; Living in Storms: Contemporary Poetry and the Moods of Manic-Depression ; and The POETRY Anthology, 1912- 2002. Recipient of fellowships from the Massachusetts Artists Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts, he currently directs the Low-Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Lesley University in Cambridge, which was named by Poets & Writers as one of the top ten low-residency MFA programs in the country.
Inhaltsangabe
I hear the dinner plates gossip A page writes me (my words blue Stashed my secret name in its haven If I think in yellow, I can remember My notion of heaven? Um, plumb garden The circulars blued under my eyes It s not that I don t believe in God Tsk tsk, go my wits, like a grandfather Sweat no longer creeps me out I feel as male as I feel female My tongue-print s on your butter Flirting from pokeweed, Dickey I cut back on coffee. And air. And sky ~ I was twin pencils. A fit in one sex I m speaking with my mother s voice Dad. He plays dead, and his leash Okay, here s what we did. Dad was a quark Sieg Heil, Father, for the dammerang Dickey said it s the perineum Mother said you count your friends on one hand Black cats ring bells. I m your son From the time he opened his mouth his talk was off Mom and Dad made livings in Heaven Parents are the nations that thrust you ~ Dickey s death feels all over me He s gone, Mother Teresa told me First I denied the no-seeums speckling If the raw world left in me s red I hear, in my phone, vocabulary where Dear eyes, my ears keep paired for you A finch in my chest flinches to get Iris of the one-eyed Satan see it? I shake my head, my right brain s Back on my wings, wings became me Don t have to swim straight, dark says ~ So I left my apartment, got down where Damned if my thumbs-up, deadpan When I saw her, her face was a marinade I moved inside a movie about women Noise-canceling paws at my ears . . . nobody s safe inside the airtight zones The Trimínos rent free in my head They ll rant what s left of you You say I m in one of my highs Your head meds serve my serfdom Words next-to-last-next-to-last-next-to Dickey my door, I m seeing. Yesterday I feel well, but keep hoping to get well
I hear the dinner plates gossip A page writes me (my words blue Stashed my secret name in its haven If I think in yellow, I can remember My notion of heaven? Um, plumb garden The circulars blued under my eyes It s not that I don t believe in God Tsk tsk, go my wits, like a grandfather Sweat no longer creeps me out I feel as male as I feel female My tongue-print s on your butter Flirting from pokeweed, Dickey I cut back on coffee. And air. And sky ~ I was twin pencils. A fit in one sex I m speaking with my mother s voice Dad. He plays dead, and his leash Okay, here s what we did. Dad was a quark Sieg Heil, Father, for the dammerang Dickey said it s the perineum Mother said you count your friends on one hand Black cats ring bells. I m your son From the time he opened his mouth his talk was off Mom and Dad made livings in Heaven Parents are the nations that thrust you ~ Dickey s death feels all over me He s gone, Mother Teresa told me First I denied the no-seeums speckling If the raw world left in me s red I hear, in my phone, vocabulary where Dear eyes, my ears keep paired for you A finch in my chest flinches to get Iris of the one-eyed Satan see it? I shake my head, my right brain s Back on my wings, wings became me Don t have to swim straight, dark says ~ So I left my apartment, got down where Damned if my thumbs-up, deadpan When I saw her, her face was a marinade I moved inside a movie about women Noise-canceling paws at my ears . . . nobody s safe inside the airtight zones The Trimínos rent free in my head They ll rant what s left of you You say I m in one of my highs Your head meds serve my serfdom Words next-to-last-next-to-last-next-to Dickey my door, I m seeing. Yesterday I feel well, but keep hoping to get well
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