Includes biographical notes, a key to Roman transcription, a list of titles or first lines, and a glossary of Urdu words in Roman script.

    Michael Martone is its own appendix, comprising fifty “contributors notes,” each of which identifies in exorbitant biographical detail the author of the other forty-nine. Full of fanciful anecdotes and preposterous reminiscences, Martone’s self-inventions include the multiple deaths of himself and all his family members, his Kafkaesque rebirth as a giant insect, and his stints as circus performer, assembly-line worker, photographer, and movie extra. Expect no autobiographical consistency here. A note revealing Martone's mother as the ghost-writer of all his books precedes the note beginning, “Michael Martone, an orphan . . . “ We learn of Martone’s university career and sketchy formal education, his misguided caretaking of his teacher John Barth’s lawn, and his impersonation of a poor African republic in political science class, where Martone's population is allowed to starve as his more fortunate fellow republics fight over development and natural resource trading-cards. The author of Michael Martone, whose other names include Missy, Dolly, Peanut, Bug, Gigi-tone, Tony's boy, Patty's boy, Junior's, Mickey, Monk, Mr. Martone, and “the contributor named in this note," proves as Protean as fiction itself, continuously transforming the past with every new attribution but never identifying himself by name. It is this missing personage who, from first note to last, constitutes the unformed subject of Michael Martone.

    Presenting a cast of allegorical and symbolic, yet very real, characters, the poems have “authority, daring, [and] a language of color and sure movement,” says series judge W.S. Merwin.From Seven ChimerasThe way Booth makes a love story: same as a regular story, except under one rock is a trapdoor that leads to a room full of belly buttons;  each must be pushed, one is a landmine. The way Booth makes hope: thirty-seven acres, Black Damon, Red Dog. Construct a pillar of fire in the Great Field and let it become unquenchable. The way Booth ends the Jack-in-the-Box charade: shoot the weasel in the neck and toss it to the buzzards. The way Booth thinks of salvation: God holding a broken abacus, colored beads falling away.

    Herter Norton offer Rilke's work to the English-speaking world in an accurate, sensitive, modern version.

    But this is no bard’s song. All of this was because of the dragon stone necklace I scavenged from that dead mage. I knew it was magic when I saw it. Well, it was and it wasn’t. Dragon stone they call it, but what it actually is, is a dragon’s egg. When I touched it, I felt the need to put it around my neck for safekeeping. When I did, the necklace embedded itself inside my skin, making me the new dragon’s envoy. It has since been my duty to protect the egg until she’s ready to hatch. How do I know the egg is a she? Easy, she talks to me and is helping me to bring out my natural magic talents. Sometimes I’d rather it was a bard’s song, as it can be tiring. Although I must admit, having a dragon inside you comes in handy when people are trying to kill you.

    Hers is a vision like no other. In “To My Big Nose,” she muses: “hard to imagine what the world would have looked like / if not seen through your pink shadow. / You who are built from random parts / like a mythical creature–a gryphon or sphinx–.”Fearless, focused, ironic, irreverent, truly and deeply felt, the poems in Luck Is Luck draw upon the circumstances of being a woman, the harsh realities of nature, the comfort of familiar things, and universally recognizable anxieties about faith and grief, love and desire. In “Languedoc,” she writes, “Long ago / I might have been attracted by your tights and pantaloons / but now they just look silly, ditto for your instrument / that looks like a gourd with strings attached / (the problem is always the strings attached).”Perillo’s versions of nature are always unflinching: “Most days back then I would walk by the shrike tree, / a dead hawthorn at the base of a hill. / The shrike had pinned smaller birds on the tree’s black thorns / and the sun had stripped them of their feathers. / . . . well, hard luck is luck, nonetheless. / With a chunk of sky in each eye socket. / And the pierced heart strung up like a pearl.”Down-to-earth, full of playful twists of language, and woven from grand themes in an accessible, appealing way, these poems pierce the heart and delight the mind. Not one word is wasted.

    . . short poems so as to draw us into the doubleness and fluency of feelings."—The New York Times Book ReviewQuietly marked by elegy and memory, National Book Award winner Jean Valentine's thirteenth book is empowered by her signature clear music and compassion. Valentine leads us chronologically from childhood drawings and wartime memories to the present, where she addresses aging and the loss of loved ones. These poems of tender grace reflect on the small histories few ever fully see.Shirt in HeavenCome upon a snapshotof secret you, smiling like FDR, leaning on your crutches—come upon letters I thought I'd burned—I suppose you've got a place with lots of stairs.I'm at the end of something, you're at the beginning . . . —dearest, they told me a surgeon sat downin the hospital morgue, next to your body, & cried.He yelled at the aide to get out.His two sons had been your students.—me too, little-knowing—Jean Valentine is the current State Poet of New York and author of twelve books of poetry, including Door in the Mountain, which won the National Book Award. She has taught at Sarah Lawrence College, New York University, and Columbia University, and lives in the Morningside Heights neighborhood of New York City.

    A prose poem has been added as a prologue.

    Beautiful. On the run. When secret agent Maggie Black agrees to protect the Mayor of London, she thinks she’s in for a boring night of babysitting. The simple job gets a lot more complicated when an assassin arrives and takes out the Mayor, framing Maggie as the killer. Unable to explain the evidence against her, Maggie is branded a traitor and hunted by the very people she once fought beside. With no one to turn to, Maggie relies on the one person who has always had her back—herself. From the hidden nightclubs of Madrid, to the dark streets of Moscow, Maggie must delve into the depths of the criminal underworld to unearth the truth, and fast. Because time is running out and the enemy is closer than she thinks… KILL ORDER is the first gripping installment to the Maggie Black thriller series, and the perfect read for fans of Lee Child and James Patterson. Venice. The Mafia. A drug deal gone wrong. When a British covert intelligence agency learns of an impending drug deal between the Venetian mafia and one of the UK’s most notorious importers, agent Maggie Black is sent to stop it. Under the alias of an American drug lord, Maggie must infiltrate the crime family and stop their product from reaching British soil. A feat that gets more complicated when her colleague and old flame Leon is sent along with her. Maggie is soon thrust into the middle of a vicious war that spans generations. As blood is spilled and the scent of death lingers across the lagoons, a failed mission becomes the least of her worries. Because someone has a score to settle and they won't let Maggie stand in their way... Join Maggie Black in VENDETTA, the first heart-pounding novella in the Maggie Black Case Files series. Get your copy of the Starter Library today and discover the action-packed world of Maggie Black.

    Under the treaty, the Sisters of Astraea were proclaimed the judicators of the land because they could tell truth from lie—a gift of a golden viper bestowed on the Sisters by the God Naga. The treaty prevented a revolution by the commoners which would have ended the nobility. Now, however, many nobles want to go back to being above the law and Duke Chaney is using this discontent to raise an army against the king. Senior Judicator Tenzen sets out with Jola, a newly promoted judicator, to investigate the growing hostility, unaware the rebels are killing judicators to keep the rebellion a secret. Fortunately Jola has been trained in the art of the sword, grew up as a homeless street-urchin, and knows how to survive. But it will take more than surviving to stop the rebellion. No one could have anticipated that the faith of the kingdom may depend on Jola's ability to untangle the discontented from the traitorous.

    His father was black, his mother a full-blood member of the Kickapoo Traditional Tribe of Texas. He remembers neither of them. Both disappeared soon after Concho’s birth and his Kickapoo grandmother raised him on the tribal reservation just outside Eagle Pass, Texas.Often bullied as a youth for his differences, Concho soon grew into the promise of his big hands and wide shoulders. Hatred of him remained in some; fear joined that emotion in others. Concho learned to walk a solitary path, which first took him away to college and then to Afghanistan as an Army Ranger.Now, a group of Neo-Nazi terrorists have taken over a mall in Eagle Pass. One hostage is the woman Concho loves. The only path Concho can see is straight ahead and through.

    

    The FBI claims the men were part of an anti-government militia group, but Joseph and Tanya know that wasn't the case. They join forces to find the truth as a cabal of the wealthy and political elite work to create a false crisis in order to justify the suspension of the US constitution. Finding evidence that proves their fathers’ innocence and exposes the lie told to the American people, they are forced to flee a team of the Cabal's hired mercenaries. Now, they must stay alive as a group of former special forces soldiers races to save them and reveal the truth to the world.

    Edited by Cid Corman. The section headings in this book of poems are all vintage Niedecker, but they stake out the poems in three large masses. The earlier work-apprentice to Zukofsky but finding her voice; the central work--when she discovers her range and depth; the final work--much of it known posthumously--showing how she was probing other voices into a larger plenum. One's first impulse, after awe, on reading THE GRANITE PAIL is a double dose of shame: shame at not being more familiar with her work; shame at ever having complained of the narrowness of one's life--Carolyn Kizer.