June in Eden: OSU JOURNAL AWARD POETRY
Autor Rosalie Moffetten Limba Engleză Paperback – 2017
A sharp, darkly funny, and tender debut that exposes the fractures in our language, our technologies, and our attempts to call the world by its right name.
In June in Eden, Rosalie Ruth Moffett leads us through terrains that shift between the mythic and the modern. Sometimes the garden is wild and blooming; other times, the coveted tree is only hiding a cell tower, lungs become ATMs, and prayers travel by text message. This is a book for an age when “new kinds of war…keep / changing the maps,” and when even small slips—preying or praying—reveal the instability of the words we rely on.
At the heart of the collection lies an obsession with language: its power, its failures, and what remains when it falters. “Ruth,” our speaker notes, is “a kind of compassion / nobody wants anymore—the surviving half / of the pair of words is ruthless.” Throughout these poems, dark humor coexists with deep tenderness, reminding us of the human urge to “love the world / we made and all its shadows.
Moffett offers a speaker bewildered and awestruck by the world’s contradictions—its technological miracles, its medical uncertainties, its imaginative leaps. These poems, equal parts grief and wonder, give us a landscape that from some angles resembles paradise, and from others, something far stranger.
In June in Eden, Rosalie Ruth Moffett leads us through terrains that shift between the mythic and the modern. Sometimes the garden is wild and blooming; other times, the coveted tree is only hiding a cell tower, lungs become ATMs, and prayers travel by text message. This is a book for an age when “new kinds of war…keep / changing the maps,” and when even small slips—preying or praying—reveal the instability of the words we rely on.
At the heart of the collection lies an obsession with language: its power, its failures, and what remains when it falters. “Ruth,” our speaker notes, is “a kind of compassion / nobody wants anymore—the surviving half / of the pair of words is ruthless.” Throughout these poems, dark humor coexists with deep tenderness, reminding us of the human urge to “love the world / we made and all its shadows.
Moffett offers a speaker bewildered and awestruck by the world’s contradictions—its technological miracles, its medical uncertainties, its imaginative leaps. These poems, equal parts grief and wonder, give us a landscape that from some angles resembles paradise, and from others, something far stranger.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780814253847
ISBN-10: 0814253849
Pagini: 64
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 10 mm
Greutate: 0.11 kg
Ediția:1
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad River Books
Seria OSU JOURNAL AWARD POETRY
ISBN-10: 0814253849
Pagini: 64
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 10 mm
Greutate: 0.11 kg
Ediția:1
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad River Books
Seria OSU JOURNAL AWARD POETRY
Recenzii
“Such a disturbing and solacing book! ‘Hello, Robot,’ says a little boy in a grocery store to the shiny singing coffee grinder. These poems startle, charm, deepen. Rosalie Moffett makes it a point not to know it all, but, trust me, she knows plenty, taking prisoner after prisoner only to release them again to the outer space of wonder and selflessness, sanity and grief. She remembers: ‘Because Rosi, don’t you love / this Eden—its beetles, its blooms all waiting / to be named.’ These are poems we need in our age of terrible troubles.” —Marianne Boruch, author of Cadaver, Speak and Eventually One Dreams the Real Thing
“Aphasia: the impairment of the mind to comprehend language; literally, to be at a loss for words. Rosalie Moffett eloquently replaces the abstract language of clinical diagnosis with profoundly affecting descriptions of her mother’s deteriorating verbal grasp, ‘a city / at night with small, black power outages.’ Like a series of nesting dolls, these poems submerge us into the central core of mind and body, ‘the mercy of the interior’ where loss can be reconciled with love.” —D. A. Powell, author of Useless Landscape
“Rosalie Moffet’s tender and brilliant poems constitute a ‘fractal / of receptacles’ where we can more deeply perceive the strangeness of language, its many mirrors and doors, hazards and possibilities. Her wide-ranging knowledge—of anatomy, animals, botany, and much, much more—shapes her highly original imagination as she struggles to understand the ways we are ‘at the mercy of the interior.’ June in Eden offers a vision of how such struggle can transform our shared condition into something infinitely more lustrous and merciful.” —Mary Szybist, author of Incarnadine (winner of the 2013 National Book Award for Poetry)
Notă biografică
Rosalie Moffett is the author of Making a Living, Nervous System, and June in Eden. She was a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University. Her work has appeared in The American Poetry Review, New England Review, Narrative, Poetry, Kenyon Review, and Ploughshares, among others. She is an Assistant Professor at the University of Southern Indiana, and the Senior Poetry editor for the Southern Indiana Review.
Extras
Biology
I know metamorphosis turns
a kaleidoscope
into a caterpillar and then into a gypsy moth
with a white furry mouth. I’ve learned
some things. To mimic injury
the plover drags a wing
in the dust. The lure
of a wound is always enticing
away from something
smaller, more
vulnerable. Inside what looks
like a dress,
gauzy white silk, the tent
caterpillars
set to ruining
the tree.
This World, Its Weather
Not dawn, but the microwave
doing its mysterious molecule rattling
with a cup of coffee. The hum-comfort and glow—
up this early, I can’t help it if I see a dead ringer
for the sun there, next to the sink. For a time,
I was a twin. I waited in something I imagine
as a planetarium with the one who was
not me, who would disappear. This was before
my brain began to take
its automatic notes, so I felt nothing
that I know of when the partition went up
between us. I was assigned to this world, its weather
and oceans and dark 6am kitchens, my body
well-suited to transmit messages: how spring came all
of a sudden with its mania of crocuses, how it burnt
just now, the coffee pulled from its star. I fire
my circuitry, feel each thing
the way a fax machine would: brilliant
as it passes through. Somewhere, I have a sister
circuit, wired in mirror image. All night I understand
the data to be hers.
I know metamorphosis turns
a kaleidoscope
into a caterpillar and then into a gypsy moth
with a white furry mouth. I’ve learned
some things. To mimic injury
the plover drags a wing
in the dust. The lure
of a wound is always enticing
away from something
smaller, more
vulnerable. Inside what looks
like a dress,
gauzy white silk, the tent
caterpillars
set to ruining
the tree.
This World, Its Weather
Not dawn, but the microwave
doing its mysterious molecule rattling
with a cup of coffee. The hum-comfort and glow—
up this early, I can’t help it if I see a dead ringer
for the sun there, next to the sink. For a time,
I was a twin. I waited in something I imagine
as a planetarium with the one who was
not me, who would disappear. This was before
my brain began to take
its automatic notes, so I felt nothing
that I know of when the partition went up
between us. I was assigned to this world, its weather
and oceans and dark 6am kitchens, my body
well-suited to transmit messages: how spring came all
of a sudden with its mania of crocuses, how it burnt
just now, the coffee pulled from its star. I fire
my circuitry, feel each thing
the way a fax machine would: brilliant
as it passes through. Somewhere, I have a sister
circuit, wired in mirror image. All night I understand
the data to be hers.
Cuprins
Acknowledgments ix
Revisions 1
What It Was 3
Biology 4
Taxonomy 5
Weather 6
Spasm 7
This World, Its Weather 8
The Bathroom Wall Says Women 9
Delayed Flight 10
How to Return 11
I Found a Knit of Branches in a Cave Shape 12
June in Eden 13
The Only Paradise 14
The New Trees 16
Hymns 17
Outside Pasco 18
Intersection 19
Comfort 21
Hand-sized Explosions, the Peonies 22
Rosalie Ruth Moffett 23
Remedy 24
Fill in the Blank 25
Articulation 26
New Evidence of Water 27
Question 29
viii
Noise 30
Prayers 31
Safe 32
The Way It Works 33
On Emptiness 34
Poem with a Forklift in It 36
Anatomy 37
A Certain Eden 38
Fall 39
Platinum, Gold, Silver, Bronze, Catastrophe 40
The Family Lives on a Farm 41
Radiograph 42
The Year 43
The Summer the Collies 44
Why Is It the More 45
Long Division 46
The Observable Universe 47
Re: Grand Theft Auto 2 48
Love Poem 49
Punctuation 50
The Beach Was a Giant Field 51
Tense 52
Pastoral 53
Revisions 1
What It Was 3
Biology 4
Taxonomy 5
Weather 6
Spasm 7
This World, Its Weather 8
The Bathroom Wall Says Women 9
Delayed Flight 10
How to Return 11
I Found a Knit of Branches in a Cave Shape 12
June in Eden 13
The Only Paradise 14
The New Trees 16
Hymns 17
Outside Pasco 18
Intersection 19
Comfort 21
Hand-sized Explosions, the Peonies 22
Rosalie Ruth Moffett 23
Remedy 24
Fill in the Blank 25
Articulation 26
New Evidence of Water 27
Question 29
viii
Noise 30
Prayers 31
Safe 32
The Way It Works 33
On Emptiness 34
Poem with a Forklift in It 36
Anatomy 37
A Certain Eden 38
Fall 39
Platinum, Gold, Silver, Bronze, Catastrophe 40
The Family Lives on a Farm 41
Radiograph 42
The Year 43
The Summer the Collies 44
Why Is It the More 45
Long Division 46
The Observable Universe 47
Re: Grand Theft Auto 2 48
Love Poem 49
Punctuation 50
The Beach Was a Giant Field 51
Tense 52
Pastoral 53
Descriere
Darkly humorous poems about grief and wonder that offer a speaker bewildered and awestruck by the world’s contradictions.