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Chargement... Small Rainpar Barbara Crooker
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Barbara Crooker's sixth collection of poetry, Small Rain, is an exploration of the wheel of the year, the seasons that roll in a continuous circle and yet move inexorably forward. Here, gorgeous lyric poems praise poppies, mockingbirds, nectarines, mulch and compost, yet loss (stillbirth, cancer, emphysema), with its crow-black wings, is also always present. In poems that narrow in on the particular ("a cardinal twangs his notes of cheer; he has no truck with irony and post- / modernism"), poems that focus on aging and the body ("how many springs are left on my ticket?"), poems that open out into the larger world of politics, war, global climate change, Crooker's work embodies Wendell Berry's words, "Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts," reminding us that sometimes we need to stop in wonder, look at the natural world, which we are close to ruining forever, and let "our mouths say o and o and o." Aucune description trouvée dans une bibliothèque |
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In the first poem, "The thin tinsel of the new moon / hangs in the dark sky, a comma / dividing the sentence between / last year's troubles and this year's / hopes . . ."
And:
". . . trees as bare as a politician's promise"
"the crocus, sticking out its plum tongue, / inciting the woods to riot"
". . . The air / stretches and warms; you could pull it / like molasses taffy . . ."
There were poems that caused me to reflect about relationships, some that made me cry. Most made me stop and say, "Why have I never looked at it that way?"
Highly recommended. ( )