From Pulitzer Prize--winner Mark Strand comes an exquisitely witty and poignant sequence of prose poems. occasionally showing as natural prose, occasionally as impure poetry, yet continuously with Strand's readability and ease of favor, they're like riddles, their solutions vanishing simply as they seem within sight. fantasy, household satire, meditation, comic story, and delusion all come jointly in what's arguably the liveliest, so much exciting e-book that Strand has but written.
floor that one can't see. The Minister of tradition will get His want The Minister of tradition is going domestic after a grueling day on the workplace. He lies on his mattress and attempts to consider not anything, yet not anything occurs or, extra accurately, doesn't occur. not anything is in other places doing what not anything does, that is to extend the darkish. however the minister is sufferer, and slowly issues slip away—the partitions of his apartment, the park around the road, his associates within the subsequent city. He believes that not anything has eventually come.
occurred after Venice might start, and what occurred after the house of the afflicted center broke in could additionally start. The Buried depression of the Poet One summer season whilst he was once nonetheless younger he stood on the window and questioned the place they'd long past, these ladies who sat by way of the sea, observing, watching for anything that may by no means arrive, the wind mild opposed to their pores and skin, sending unfastened strands of hair throughout their lips. From what season had they fallen, from what notion of grace had they strayed?.
Brothel of Blind ladies Bury Your Face on your arms anyplace might be someplace concord within the Boudoir Clarities of the Nonexistent The Minister of tradition will get His want The previous Age of Nostalgia Dream Testicles, Vanished Vaginas the scholars of the Ineffable the standard attraction of song The Buried depression of the Poet Ever such a lot of Hundred Years for that reason Exhaustion at sundown transparent within the September mild you could continuously Get There from right here The Gallows within the backyard Love.
Write, I shall do my top to respond to you. within the previous days, my ideas like tiny sparks might flare up within the nearly darkish of cognizance and that i might transcribe them, and web page after web page shone with a gentle that I referred to as my very own. i'd sit down at my table surprised through what had simply occurred. or even as I watched the lighting fixtures fade and my suggestions develop into small, meaningless memorials within the afterglow of rather a lot promise, i used to be nonetheless surprised. And once they disappeared, as they necessarily did, i used to be able to.
Write, I shall do my top to reply to you. within the previous days, my suggestions like tiny sparks might flare up within the nearly darkish of realization and that i may transcribe them, and web page after web page shone with a mild that I known as my very own. i'd sit down at my table surprised via what had simply occurred. or even as I watched the lighting fade and my innovations turn into small, meaningless memorials within the afterglow of rather a lot promise, i used to be nonetheless surprised. And once they disappeared, as they unavoidably did, i used to be able to.