By Sandra M. Gilbert

Sandra Gilbert's poems are superbly positioned on the intersection of craft and feeling.—Billy CollinsThe identify of this collection—at occasions mournful, sardonic, and joyous—refers to the grief within the wake of loss. but those poems are usually not on the subject of the implications of loss but in addition concerning the complicated reviews of persistence, acquiescence, and rebirth that, with good fortune, mark the aftermath of sorrow. from "Aftermath: Kite"       But the concept is simply paper in any case,       a soul that adheres to a stick, tears open, shreds       as if it is flung to the floor in a last glossy fall,       and ultimately the road is going limp, the mountaineering ends.       Beyond the frenzy & sweep, an arc of silence—       though a brain imagined this flight, & proved it as soon as.

Show description

Read or Download Aftermath: Poems PDF

Best american literature books

Une chanson douce

Kate gît, inconsciente et grièvement brûlée, sur un lit d'hôpital. los angeles jeune femme a réussi à échapper aux flammes qui ont ravagé, en pleine nuit, l. a. manufacture familiale de meubles anciens et le bâtiment attenant où étaient stockées de précieuses antiquités.

The Custom of the Country

In a tradition ruled through males who refuse to take girls heavily, except for them from the genuine enterprise of existence, Undine Spragg moves out to find how some distance attractiveness and bold can hold her.

She makes use of her acceptance like a blunt device and golf equipment her means up the social ladder with a sequence of more and more positive marriages.

She is the small city woman made solid, the country who outsmarts big apple society and strikes directly to continental princelings. There looks no restrict to her conquests, yet happiness evades her. we will expect her fall, yet are powerless to intervene.

"Brilliantly written. it may be learn as a parable. " (Saturday overview)

Beautiful Enemies: Friendship and Postwar American Poetry

Even though it has lengthy been ordinary to visualize the archetypal American poet making a song a solitary "Song of Myself," a lot of the main enduring American poetry has truly been preoccupied with the drama of friendship. during this lucid and soaking up examine, Andrew Epstein argues that an obsession with either the pleasures and difficulties of friendship erupts within the "New American Poetry" that emerges after the second one international conflict.

Reconstructing the Beats

This selection of scholarly essays reassesses the Beat new release writers in mid-century American historical past and literature, in addition to their large cultural effect because the 60s from modern serious, theoretical, old, and interdisciplinary views. the conventional canon of significant writers during this iteration is multiplied to incorporate ladies and African americans.

Extra info for Aftermath: Poems

Example text

Was it hers who sobbed and put her head in the oven, was it theirs who made this day their wedding day, or his who couldn't keep from getting born? The tumult of birth pummeled and plunged him out, nothing could stop the clenched fist of the womb, the lips that gaped and uttered him head to toe, the what that made him ugly or smart or handsome­ and then (as you lay dying) the afterbirth, the cage of breath, the blood, the aftermath. -FOR E. L. , FEBRUARY II, 2005 45 ANTI-SONNET Fifteen years in the sweet-scented meadow, its grasses restlessly balancing tendrils and tips of light, and the ocean juggling the sky in bits and pieces, and the cattails crinkling in the yellow heat .

Was it hers who sobbed and put her head in the oven, was it theirs who made this day their wedding day, or his who couldn't keep from getting born? The tumult of birth pummeled and plunged him out, nothing could stop the clenched fist of the womb, the lips that gaped and uttered him head to toe, the what that made him ugly or smart or handsome­ and then (as you lay dying) the afterbirth, the cage of breath, the blood, the aftermath. -FOR E. L. , FEBRUARY II, 2005 45 ANTI-SONNET Fifteen years in the sweet-scented meadow, its grasses restlessly balancing tendrils and tips of light, and the ocean juggling the sky in bits and pieces, and the cattails crinkling in the yellow heat .

DECEMBER 1, 1957 I was twenty. You were twenty-seven. ) Our parents were fifty somethings & the grandparents in their seventies. Everybody wore hats. We ate Cornish game hens stuffed with wild rice. A string quartet played the waltzes from Rosen/cavalier. Cousins & fathers& brothers uttered toasts. When we cut the cake, Monsieur Charles, the maitre-d', surprised you with a cupcake on which a single candle rode. ) There was white satin, as usual, & the usual rice. We had three children, four grandchildren -a little girl you never met is at this moment crying in the next room, & the sun is climbing over the cypresses.

Download PDF sample

Rated 4.57 of 5 – based on 21 votes