By Robyn Schiff
A new e-book from a poet whose paintings is "wild with mind's eye, unafraid, formidable, inventive" (Jorie Graham)
Located in a menacing, gothic panorama, the poems that contain A girl of Property draw formal and resourceful obstacles opposed to boundless mortal risk, yet as all borders are susceptible, this ominous assortment eventually levels an pressing and deeply imperiled boundary dispute the place haunting, phantasm, the presence of the previous, and disembodied voices in simple terms additional unsettle questions of fabric and non secular ownership. it is a theatrical ebook of dilapidated homes and overgrown gardens, of passageways and thresholds, edges, prosceniums, unearthings, and root structures. The volatile estate strains right here rove from heaven to hell, troubling percentage and frightening propriety within the identify of unfathomable propagation. Are the entire gates during this booklet folly? Are the partitions too simply scaled to carry whatever again or impose self-confinement? What won't a poem do to get to the opposite facet?
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Extra resources for A Woman of Property (Penguin Poets)
Dying! Oh Wisnieski, help me! Please fucking help me. Me: “Wiskieski, just tell me. We used to be so good man. It was me and you. Just me and ol’ Wisnieski. ” Minutes passed. ” And I lay there in the dark, waiting for Wisnieski to respond. To tell me we were all right. But he never did. No. Wisnieski. What happened. Where did you go. I’m never going to get to the post-production party—I thought. I’ll never make it. Never! And I spun the shitty phone around on the floor, sweating. m. m. Somehow it was the worst feeling ever, to watch that happen.
55 [SAM PINK] “You started and I followed,” my brother said. ” And I remembered the gum I had in my mouth. Worried I’d inhale it while catching my breath. ) of my lungs. I saw myself decaying in the corner of a room empty but for a toilet—wheezing in the corner, purple- skinned and seconds from death. My brother gave me the gum a couple days ago and I saved it. It was pink and had been in a dresser drawer for a long time. When I ate it today after my sandwich, the gum crumbled into dust at first.
Randomly. Like I don’t even know if I’m talking to myself or someone’s telling me that or whatever. Which at first was scary. Then I realized I did it to preserve myself in some way and it became comfortable. I kicked some more rocks against a chainlink fence. Both my hands in fists. A part of the city skyline was visible over garages and loading docks. Kill you—I thought. ” I didn’t say anything. Felt like I should. 37 [SAM PINK] But I didn’t. ” Then he punched a branch that hung over someone’s fence and kicked some rocks.
A Woman of Property (Penguin Poets) by Robyn Schiff