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    frequently anthologized poem

    The latest installment of the yearly anthology of contemporary American poetry that has achieved brand-name status in the literary world.

    It is a voice thick with the humidity and whirring cicadas of Kentucky, but the poems are dangerous, smelling of the crisp cucumber scent of a copperhead about to strike. Epistolary in nature, and with a novel's arc, Sister is a story that begins with a teen giving birth to a baby girl--the narrator--during a tornado, and in some ways, that tornado never ends. In the hands of a lesser poet, this debut collection would be a standard-issue confession, a melodramatic exercise in anger and self-pity. But melodrama requires simple villains and victims, and there is neither in this richly complex portrait. Ultimately, Sister is more about the narrator's transgressions and failures, more about her relationships to her sister and their mother than about that which divided them. With equal parts sass and sorrow, these poems etch out survival won not with tender-hearted reflections but by smoking cigarettes through fly-specked screens, by using cans of aerosol hair spray as a makeshift flamethrowers, and, most cruelly, by leaving home and trying to forget her sister entirely. From there, each poem is a letter of explanation and apology to that younger sister she never knew.Sister recounts a return to a place that Brown never truly left. It is a book of forgiveness, of seeking what is beyond mere survival, of finding your way out of a place of poverty and abuse only to realize that you must go back again, all the way back to where everything began--that warm, dark nest of mother.

    Hard to imagine that no one counts,that only things endure.Unlike the seasons, our shirts don't shed,Whatever we see does not see us,however hard we look,The rain in its silver earrings against the oak trunks,The rain in its second skin.--from "Scar Tissue II"In his new collection, the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Charles Wright investigates the tenuous relationship between description and actuality--"thing is not an image"--but also reaffirms the project of attempting to describe, to capture the natural world and the beings in it, although he reminds us that landscape is not his subject matter but his technique: that language was always his subject--language and "the ghost of god." And in the dolomites, the clouds, stars, wind, and water that populate these poems, "something un-ordinary persists."Scar Tissue is a groundbreaking work from a poet who "illuminates and exalts the entire astonishing spectrum of existence" (Booklist).

    His most recent volumes of poetry are Rooms Are Never Finished and The Country Without a Post Office. He is also the editor of Ravishing Disunities: Real Ghazals in English.

    This volume encapsulates the finest work from Seeing Things (1991) with its lines of loss and revelation; The Spirit Level (1996) where we experience "the poem as ploughshare that turns time / Up and over."; the landmark translation of Beowulf (1999); Electric Light (2001), a book of origins and oracles; and his final collections, District and Circle (2006) and Human Chain (2010), which limn the interconnectedness of being, our lifelines to our inherited past.

    Lana’s music and lyrics evoke images of a saturated Kodachrome photograph, so it would stand to reason that she’d now add “poet” to her artist’s kit. Even without music, her words work their way around you, pulling you into a world that’s not unlike a David Lynch movie.[from barnesandnoble.com]

    Here is the green and carefree world of a boy who delights in the possibilities of each day, of a child who wrings from every moment a feeling as intensely magical as it is profoundly innocent.

    Covering topics from love and heartbreak to chaos and self-discovery, each poem is laced in a cozy, magical energy that is sure to hold the reader suspended in the in-between.

    She taught at many universities, finally settling at SUNY Binghamton. Today she lives in Vermont.

    

    They tell who we were, our jobs and memories of the place, and what we did after we came home. From a Marine ambulance driver at Khe Sanh, Special Ops troops fighting a guerrilla war against the VC and NVA, Recon pilots, artillerymen on Christmas Eve, a Navy seaman below decks fighting a catastrophic fire on the USS Oriskany, a New Zealand artillery unit firing round after round to stop an NVA assault, Marine Corpsmen saving the wounded under fire, patrolling the jungle with New Zealand infantry, walking into Khe Sanh with the 1st Cav as they broke the siege, riding in an APC with the armored cav across the hills in I Corps, being shot down in Cambodia with a Huey pilot, plus cooks, clerks, truck drivers, and gunship pilots, combat medics, and Marine grunts and many more -- from the Delta to the DMZ and Thailand to the South China Sea, this book puts you in their boots. While most Vietnam War books only cover one guy, one unit, one place, and one year, Volume 1, Volume 2, and now Volume 3 span all the war years from 1962 to 1975. Some of us were drafted. Some enlisted. Some were legit war heroes, but most were just trying to survive. As everyone “in-country” knew, Vietnam mostly came down to luck, good or bad. If you were there, you understand. If you weren’t, grab a copy and start reading anywhere in the book. The stories are like Doritos. Try a few. I guarantee and you won’t be able to stop.

    In The Tree House Jamie argues - as Burns did before her - for an engagement of the whole being through a kind of practical earthly spirituality. These often startling encounters with animals, birds, and other humans propose a way of living which recognises the earth as home to many different consciousnesses -- and a means of authentic engagement with 'this, the only world'. Together they form one of the most powerful poetic statements of recent years.

    . . indulgent and melancholy . . . moments of extreme morbidity and anger."—Arielle Greenberg"Her poems take some getting used to."—Robert Strong"Many won't find her . . . acceptable at all...—Cole Swensen