[captures] the relentless urgency of Lucretius' didacticism, his passionate conviction and proselytizing fervour.' --The Classical Review

    We find her awake in the middle of the night, contemplating love and heartbreak in all their exhilarating and anguished specifics. With astonishing openness, in language both passionate and enchanting, she offers us an intimate map of a troubled and far-flung heart: “Can you believe I thought that?” she asks, “That we would always go/roaming brave and dangerous/on wild unlit roads?”At once witty and tender, with Dorothy Parker–like turns of the knife and memorable partings from lovers in New York, London, Rome and beyond, these poems capture a restless movement through loves and locales, and charm us at every turn with their forthrightness.From the Hardcover edition.

    In the singular landscape of Matthew Rohrer's first book of poems, the weather, the food, even the household appliances come to life. "A few pages into this book," says the Minneapolis City Pages, "and you'll start glancing sideways at the terrain, which . . . looks suddenly vital." These quirky poems entertain and delicately point to truth. Rohrer illuminates a land of skewed realities where the impossible seems familiar, the sacher torte is afraid to be eaten, and it's always dusk in the forest.

    All for the chance to get back at a handful of people. It isn’t as if they didn’t deserve it either. They had driven him from his home. Chased him physically from the very guild house itself. All the way to the gates of the city. Simply because he wasn’t as strong as they expected him to be. As strong as he’d expected himself to be. He’d returned to the city the next day and left with his means for revenge. Something he’d hidden away and told no one about when he found it in one of his few Dungeon Dives. An inactive Dungeon Core. A crystal the size of a fist with a soul inside. One that could create anything from mana it wanted to. From monsters and complex cave systems to gold coins. Years spent in planning, and unfortunately farming, as he waited. Now it felt like his moment was finally here. The Dungeon Core had been acting strange lately. As if it were finally… coming to life. Watching over the crystal like a hawk for this very event, Ryker impatiently waits. Any day now, it'd start. And he could set about taking his vengeance. Starting with ripping the soul of the Dungeon out. Warning and minor spoiler: This novel contains graphic violence, undefined relationships/harem, unconventional opinions/beliefs, forced political marriage (and consummation), and a hero who is as tactful as a dog at a cat show. Read at your own risk. (Product Page for Book 1: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07... Page for Book 2: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07... Page for Book 3: https://www.amazon.com/Dungeon-Depose...)

    Starting there, this extended poem—part art criticism, part history—considers the phenomenon of glass, revealing the strength and fragility of our age in the minimalist style that has won Cole Swensen such acclaim.

    The book and the dream are the poet’s primary objects of investigation here. Through deft, quietly authoritative lyrics, Fisher meditates on the problems and possibilities—the frail craft—of perception for the reader, the dreamer, maintaining that “if the eye can love—and it can, it does—then I held you and was held.” In her foreword to the book, Louise Glück writes that Fisher’s poetry is “haunting, elusive, luminous, its greatest mystery how plain-spoken it is. Sensory impressions, which usually serve as emblems of or connections to emotion, seem suddenly in this work a language of mind, their function neither metonymic nor dramatic. They are like the dye with which a scientist injects his specimen, to track some response or behavior. Fisher uses the sense this way, to observe how being is converted into thinking.”

    Meeting-place of fever and the cold eye, in a passion which could hold together with his own arms the flying apart of his own time. He claimed it, its past and the moment that held it with its own arms, the present.They were lyrics he brought to me, cut as if with an adze; and I began to translate. In his early lyrics, with their speed, their transparencies, their couples lying together, all couples, all opposites, there was a chance for the reader to see what was flashing out of Mexico in this young poet. He glittered in his airs and silences, his sudden strokes:Our bones are lightningin the night of the flesh.0 world, all is night,life is the lightning.-from a foreword

    Marriage and motherhood have changed her identity and challenged her previous beliefs about love and romance. The demands of family and career have buried the truths she once knew beneath a mountain of resentment, dirty laundry, and endless bas of groceries. Then, on one of her late-night excursions to the supermarket, Christine runs into Joe again... and everything changes.

    

    

    

    Texts are in the original Middle English, and each has an introduction, detailed notes and a glossary. Selected titles are also available as CD recordings.

    

    A first in audiobook publishing--a series that uses the written word to enhance the listening experience--poetry to be read as well as heard. Each audiobook includes rare archival recordings on cassette and a book with the text of the poetry, a bibliography, and a commentary by J. D. McClatchy, the poet and critic, who is the editor of The Yale Review.

    It is an epic journey not only affirming that “there is a difference between sadness and suffering;” but that Schomburg is one of the most unusual poets writing today, pushing his work beyond our familiarity. These poems have a thirst for blood, but they don't yet know exactly what to do with their hands. The Book of Joshua calls out in hunger and loneliness, “I didn’t feel like living in anything not shaped like me anymore.”