another book in the series. five out of six? six out of seven? can't recall now. but it is the expanding poetry that flooded from my brain on those hot dusty dakota plains so long agothis centers about the heady days of the protests of the war in vietnam, cambodia and here at home.i was there somewhat and when i did my copy store edition abbie hoffman died. that is the unifying theme and the reason for the title.has nothing to do with abbie hoffman except circumstance and hubris. much like the tempest in a tea cup regarding Obama and some reformed weatherman today. hopefully my connection is an exercise of intellectual curiosity and not veiled racism.
images and poetry from my experiences around the WTC site before and after september 11, 2001 realized in print september 2011. including some images i took after that day in september.
Paperback edition of my first novel after ten books of poetry. A tale of life suddenly cut into by disaster. A few minutes where multiple lives are lived or imagined. What happened besides the fire?
what happens when someone from your past finds you in the present. facebook meets my mind and what was and wasn't. what we dreamed what we became. a love story? a memoir? dreams of the past? thoughts and actions taken and/or deferred.
a chance to renew what happened long ago by post cards in the mail. a story told in increments by innocents now older. a story told over time. a story placed in time in abbreviated time as in the limited space of a post card. the twitter of our parents and their parents.
Atlantis Metropolis seeks to raise epiphanies in our personal and communal growth. This work attempts to find a balance between the mechanics of technology, nature, and what it is to be human. With a bachelor's degree in English Literature and a doctorate in art education from Columbia University and 60 years of intense research of colorful characters and unusual and diverse circumstances, the author combines literary and visual treasure from Eastern and Western Culture in a very human experience.
As the foremost translator of thirteenth-century mystic poet Jalal Al-Din Rumi, Coleman Barks reaches a devoted, inspired, and ever-widening international audience. Yet the foundation for Barks's work as a translator is his own significant body of work as a poet. Winter Sky offers a selection from Barks's seven previously published books combined with a group of new poems. Barks's open-hearted, free verse poetry is infused with a joy of the spirit at play with the forms of the world. His journey through life is deeply embedded in his work. The poems spring directly from experience and engage with subjects such as the elation and struggle of having and raising children, grief over the deaths of loved ones, the transition from parent to grandparent, or the changing nature and intensity of desire. Barks's open letter to President Bush, written days before the invasion of Iraq and widely circulated online, is a poetic plea for peace, offering a startling and moving alternative to war. Whether it is the childhood excitement of being named best athlete at summer camp or the early signs of dementia at the age of seventy, Barks uses the personal to convey the universal. The unique flow of a life is here in poems that are rueful, confused, torn, and grateful, but always informed by Barks's transcendent sense of joy and playfulness.
The book offers the first comprehensive study of Paul Muldoon’s mourning verse. Considering not only the celebrated elegies like "Yarrow," "Incantata" or "Sillyhow Stride" but also the elegiac impulse as it develops throughout Muldoon’s entire work, All Will Be Swept Away charts a large swathe of Muldoon’s poetic landscape in order to show the complexity with which he approaches the themes of death and mourning. Using archival material as well as a vast array of theoretical apparatuses, the book unveils the psychological, literary and political undertones in his poetry, all the while attending to the operations of the poetic text: its form, its music and its capacity to console, warn and censure.