What would you do for love? he asks. “I would ask for poet’s death.” she replies A Place for a Poet’s Death is about love and longing, the depths of the emotions we feel for ourselves and for those around us. The book covers topics of what we would do for love and the lengths we would take. The book also covers how love can break us, how we long for self love and love of a partner. Finding the difference between love you give others and the love you have for yourself.
Rini and V.B. Price in Death Self harmoniously combine their artistic and creative talents. In doing so they evoke a potpourri of emotions that touch the human spirit not like a black feather but a white dove of peace, tranquility, and reconciliation in their personal brush with mortality. In their respective worlds of lyricism and aesthetics, death is envisaged as the supreme liberator of fear and the creator of something noble and metaphysical in the freedom of the self.
"Incorporating unprecedented access to KGB records, Irma Kudrova has uncovered both the depth of Efron's complicity in Soviet espionage, including the assassination that forced him to flee France, and the nobility and stoicism with which he endured the brutal interrogations.
"A wonderful introduction the Japanese tradition of jisei, this volume is crammed with exquisite, spontaneous verse and pithy, often hilarious, descriptions of the eccentric and committed monastics who wrote the poems." --Tricycle: The Buddhist Review Although the consciousness of death is, in most cultures, very much a part of life, this is perhaps nowhere more true than in Japan, where the approach of death has given rise to a centuries-old tradition of writing jisei, or the "death poem." Such a poem is often written in the very last moments of the poet's life. Hundreds of Japanese death poems, many with a commentary describing the circumstances of the poet's death, have been translated into English here, the vast majority of them for the first time. Yoel Hoffmann explores the attitudes and customs surrounding death in historical and present-day Japan and gives examples of how these have been reflected in the nation's literature in general. The development of writing jisei is then examined--from the longing poems of the early nobility and the more "masculine" verses of the samurai to the satirical death poems of later centuries. Zen Buddhist ideas about death are also described as a preface to the collection of Chinese death poems by Zen monks that are also included. Finally, the last section contains three hundred twenty haiku, some of which have never been assembled before, in English translation and romanized in Japanese.
Mary Oliver, winner of the Pulitzer Prize, celebrates love in her new collection of poems "If I have any secret stash of poems, anywhere, it might be about love, not anger," Mary Oliver once said in an interview. Finally, in her stunning new collection, Felicity, we can immerse ourselves in Oliver’s love poems. Here, great happiness abounds. Our most delicate chronicler of physical landscape, Oliver has described her work as loving the world. With Felicity she examines what it means to love another person. She opens our eyes again to the territory within our own hearts; to the wild and to the quiet. In these poems, she describes—with joy—the strangeness and wonder of human connection. As in Blue Horses, Dog Songs, and A Thousand Mornings, with Felicity Oliver honors love, life, and beauty.
Poetry. Fiction. California Interest. Translated from the Spanish by David Shook. This mystery novel in verse won Mexico's highest literary honor in 2009, the Xavier Villaurutia Prize. Here, it is translated by Bolaño's translator, Dylan Thomas Prize shortlisted poet David Shook. The novel centers around Mr. Gordon, who, after being let go from his job due to his unstable behaviour, experiences the unfolding of his spirit in an artificial Californian Eden. In the shade of a thousand-leaved tree, very near a pool's edge, Gordon transcribes his thoughts, memories and questions while he tries to cope with abuse from his wife and his best friend, and battle dialogues emanating from an interior voice reminding us of Berryman's Mr. Bones. DEATH ON RUA AUGUSTA is the diary of a person who cannibalizes themselves. In this important narrative poem, Tedi López Mills dives magisterially into the machine of the mind to locate the fine line that keeps us tied to the world. A chapter-based novel in poetry form, Tedi López Mills has written DEATH ON RUA AUGUSTA in the magical realist tradition, drawing on film noir and West Coast thrillers--making this a cinematically surreal and strange delight for all readers.
In this deft analysis, Vernon Shetley shows how writers and readers of poetry, operating under very different conventions and expectations, have drifted apart, stranding the once-vital poetic enterprise on the distant margins of contemporary culture. Along with a clear understanding of where American poetry stands and how it got there, After the Death of Poetry offers a compelling set of prescriptions for its future, prescriptions that might enable the art to regain its lost stature in our intellectual life. In exemplary case studies, Shetley identifies the very different ways in which three postwar poets--Elizabeth Bishop, James Merrill, and John Ashbery--try to restore some of the challenge and risk that characterized modernist poetry's relation to its first readers. Sure to be controversial, this cogent analysis offers poets and readers a clear sense of direction and purpose, and so, the hope of reaching each other again.
In his second book of narrative, lyric poetry, Richard Blanco explores the familiar, unsettling journey for home and connections, those anxious musings about other lives: ÒShould I live here? Could I live here?Ó Whether the exotic (ÒIÕm struck with Maltese fever ÉI dream of buying a little Maltese farmÉ) or merely different (ÒToday, home is a cottage with morning in the yawn of an open windowÉÓ), he examines the restlessness that threatens from merely staying put, the fear of too many places and too little time. The words are redolent with his Cuban heritage: Marina making mole sauce; T’a Ida bitter over the revolution, missing the sisters who fled to Miami; his father, especially, Òhis hair once as black as the black of his oxfordsÉÓ Yet this is a volume for all who have longed for enveloping arms and words, and for that sanctuary called home. ÒSo much of my life spent like this-suspended, moving toward unknown places and names or returning to those I know, corresponding with the paradox of crossing, being nowhere yet here.Ó Blanco embraces juxtaposition. There is the Cuban Blanco, the American Richard, the engineer by day, the poet by heart, the rhythms of Spanish, the percussion of English, the first-world professional, the immigrant, the gay man, the straight world. There is the ennui behind the question: why cannot I not just live where I live? Too, there is the precious, fleeting relief when he can write "ÉI am, for a moment, not afraid of being no more than what I hear and see, no more than this:..." It is what we all hope for, too.
