A Newer Wilderness by Roseanne Carrara

By Roseanne Carrara

In Roseanne Carrara's "A more recent Wilderness", the world's wealthy and compelling previous buckles and swells underneath our ft, and its abiding effect rises like geothermal steam into the current. strong voices from background and legend factor forth and mingle with our widespread, circadian atmosphere. those poems serve to remind us that our destiny don't need to rate us our previous, that our potential for mind needn't cut down our uncomplicated humanity, and that civilisations don't need to be equipped on the price of the typical setting within which they thrive.

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Sample text

We’d never have this at home. He never lets a thing run down so as to divide it among his fellows, and I’m so experienced now, I can’t escape his règles du jeu, or my own. — 40 — You’ll go and say it was a dream. I certainly wanted it to be one. As I was taking my rest under a lime tree, preparing myself to come back here, disappointed with the city that never materialized or had already sunk (all of this probably suggesting he had a fancy or at least business somewhere I knew little about) I looked up at those branches – they offered some uncertain shade – and spotted a hawk looming.

They say, in our most beautiful advances as in our terrible prognostications, it is the lot — 45 — of the artist as the immigrant, in body or in mind, never to fully adapt, not even out of love, but to be killed or, as he or she finds it in their power, to kill and to consume. — 46 — A NEWER WILDERNESS We are astonished with our capacity to alter the world’s evolving, not only the damage or salvation we wreak upon the environment, but through this apparent meddling, the slight yet substantial ways we modify language, law, and human sympathy.

Masterful, the things kids create, though they don’t know it. That’s what we say, but they’re always aware. Proud, the kid squirts paste on the eye he’s made (a freckle rimming the iris, just like his dad’s) to fake glaucoma. Then, magic. He waves his rubber fish above the eye and wipes off the gall so it can be seen again. — 63 — vii. in the garden John 20:14-17 You would not believe it was his daughter either, if you sat with her as he sat through the mandatories and the electives, if you had watched her come out of the convent, (their play on l’hôpital or l’hôtel dieu) wrapped in linens, almost gone.

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