By Tom Hennen
"It's difficult to think that this American master—and I don't use these phrases lightly—has been hidden correct lower than our noses for many years. yet regardless of his loss of popularity, Mr. Hennen, like all sensible word-farmer, has easily long past approximately his calling with humility and gratitude in a tradition whose basic crop has turn into popularity. He simply watches, waits after which moves, offering heart-buckling lines." —Dana Jennings, the recent York Times
"As with Ted Kooser, Tom Hennen is a genius of the typical contact. . . . they're amazingly modest males who early authorised poetry as a calling in historic phrases and not enable up regardless of being overlooked early on. They go back to the readers a thousandfold for his or her attentions." — Jim Harrison, from the introduction
"One of the main captivating issues approximately Tom Hennen's poems is his unusual skill to deliver vast quantities of area, usually uninhabited area, into his brain and so into the entire poem."—Robert Bly
Tom Hennen provides voice to the prairie and to rural groups, celebrating—with unhappiness, compliment, and astute observations—the land, climate, and population. in brief lyrics and prose poems, he unearths the special strangeness of standard issues. This quantity is Hennen's long-overdue creation to a countrywide viewers.
Read Online or Download Darkness Sticks to Everything: Collected and New Poems PDF
Similar poetry books
Mark Doty's hearth to fireside collects the easiest of his seven books of poetry, in addition to a beneficiant choice of new paintings. His signature kind encompasses either the plainspoken and the artfully wrought, as considered one of modern American poetry's so much lauded, recognizable voices speaks to the crises and chances of our time.
“In the autumn of 1970, on the New tuition in Greenwich Village, a brand new instructor published a flyer at the wall,” starts Alexander Neubauer’s creation to this impressive booklet. “It learn ‘Meet Poets and Poetry, with Pearl London and site visitors. ’” Few scholars spoke back.
Escrito con algún resabio ultraísta y bajo el influjo de su regreso a Argentina tras los años vividos en Europa, este libro anticipa con nitidez los angeles obra futura de Borges. En sus páginas ya están las metáforas clásicas, los angeles adjetivación asombrosa, el incipiente planteo metafísico, los angeles precisión verbal, l. a. unusual inflexión vacilante que esconde un remate perfecto.
Booklet by means of Beasley, Bruce
- Cathay: Translations by Ezra Pound, for the Most Part From the Chinese of Rihaku, From the Notes of the Late Ernest Fenollosa, and the Decipherings of the Professors Mori and Ariga (Classic Reprint)
- Poetry for Students: Vol. 29
- Frame Structures: Early Poems 1974-1979
- The Contemplative Soul: Hebrew Poetry and Philosophical Theory in Medieval Spain (Etudes sur le Judaisme Medieval) by Adena Tanenbaum (2002-07-10)
- My Noiseless Entourage
- Dirty Poem (New Directions Poetry Pamphlets, Volume 18)
Additional info for Darkness Sticks to Everything: Collected and New Poems
My boots become untied. My coat unbuttoned. My education gone. I don’t care anymore how the world thinks. I only know that the snow Has reached my knees. A Note to My State-Appointed Job Counselor I’m a lousy escapist. Troubles of the world roll off my back. I lose my hearing During job interviews. I walk around in a daze And pretend to know something. The only talent I have Is to be able to smell each new season Before it comes In the hair of women. from Looking into the Weather (1983) Before a Rain in Spring The willow Has a black trunk Sticking up into the lifeless branches.
In the early morning I’ll hang Over evergreen branches My ear lappers down As lights go on In the bedrooms Alarm clocks ringing words Of the first awake. Almost frozen I drift sideways Across the sky Rain turning to snow. Looking at the Windmill My kids come back from the long walk With their hands full of stones. They sense that my foundations Are shaky. They stay up late To play with me And humor me While all night not talking I duck in and out of air caves. I am the distant windmill they know to look at Moved by the least breeze.
They explain How to go for miles between towns Without warming up. Summer Night Air Night doesn’t fall It rises Out of low spots Tree trunks And the back Of the old cow I’m bringing home to milk. Cold in the Trees The hoot Of the owl Is large enough To carry off a whole sheep. Farm on a Winter Morning All I can see are Cows And five am Milking machines Hanging On big teats. The woman who hanged herself Before breakfast With a halter. The price of oats dropping On the way To the house. Me And my father Trying to break the ice Between us.