Between the Covers II

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Ologies by Chelsea Biondolillo

A fear had grown inside of me where once there had been only fascination.  There was no knife, no charged wire loop that could remove it.

What have you done to our ears to make us hear echoes? by Arlene Kim

Her womb
split open
bore us
from old blood.
One child

at a time,
she taught
how the world
cut names
in us all.

Ordinary Light by Tracy K. Smith

Pain.  The word itself doesn’t hurt enough, doesn’t know how to tell us what it stands for.

Me and My Daddy Listen to Bob Marley by Ann Pancake

Like how many times you can bisect a line.  They call it heartbreak, but not Matley, Matley learned it was not that clean, nowhere near that quick, he learned it was heartgrating, this forever loss in slow motion, forever loss without diminishment of loss, without recession, without ease, the grating.

A Long High Whistle by David Biespiel

If writing poems is a means to overcome displacement, exclusion, even relegation, and if reading poetry accomplishes a similar objective, then the art of poetry becomes a means to share messages from one exiled imagination to another.

The Artist’s Reality: Philosophies of Art by Mark Rothko

Art is not only a form of action, it is a form of social action.  For art is a type of communication, and when it enters the environment it produces its effect just as any other form of action does.

Faces in the Crowd by Valeria Luiselli

I can’t invent.  I only manage to emulate my ghosts, write the way they used to speak, not make noise, narrate our phantasmagoria.

Among the Ten Thousand Things by Julia Pierpont

I know.  It’s strange.  You want to think that what someone does with someone else has nothing to do with you.  And yet it does.  That’s why we have these rules, to protect us from getting hurt.

The Folded Clock: A Diary by Heidi Julavits

A day, like a top, can be an everyday object.  A day, like a top, can be a time-skewing device.  A day can also move downward…

Dept. of Speculation by Jenny Offill

Memories are microscopic. Tiny particles that swarm together and apart. Little people, Edison called them. Entities.

*A short disclaimer: these are listed in no particular order.  Inclusion here does not mean the whole book was good (don’t assail me if you read something and it is not your cuppa).  Rather, these are a glimpse into the books I’ve read in the part week (or two) that I felt worth the time in some way.  Not all books I read are included.

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