|aTonight no poetry will serve : |bpoems, 2007-2010 / |cAdrienne Rich
250
|a1st ed.
260
|aNew York : |bW.W. Norton & Co., |cc2011
300
|a89 p. ; |c22 cm.
500
|aI. Waiting for rain, for music -- Reading the Iliad (as if) for the first time -- Benjamin revisited -- Innocence -- Domain -- Fracture -- Turbulence -- Tonight no poetry will serve -- II. Scenes of negotiation -- III. From sickbed shores -- IV. Axel Avakar -- Axel: backstory -- Axel, in thunder -- I was there, Axel -- Axel, darkly seen, in a glass house -- V. Ballade of the poverties -- Emergency clinic -- Confrontations -- Circum/Stances -- Winterface -- Quarto -- Don't flinch -- Black locket -- Generosity -- VI. You again -- Powers of recuperation
500
|aCollects new poems by the author, that celebrate social presence under enforced isolation, aggressive authority, and ancient and present wars
In the intimate address of "Axel Avákar," the black humor of "Quarto," and the underground journey of "Powers of Recuperation," compressed lyrics flash among larger scenarios where images, dialogues, blues, and song spiral into political visions. Adrienne Rich has said, "I believe almost everything I know, have come to understand, is somewhere in this book."from "Ballade of the Poverties"There's the poverty of wages wired for the funeral youCan't get to the poverty of bodies lying unburiedThere's the poverty of labor offered silently on the curbThe poverty of yard sale scrapings spreadAnd rejected the poverty of eviction, wedding bed out on streetPrince let me tell you who will never learn through wordsThere are poverties and there are poverties.
In the intimate address of "Axel Avákar," the black humor of "Quarto," and the underground journey of "Powers of Recuperation," compressed lyrics flash among larger scenarios where images, dialogues, blues, and song spiral into political visions. Adrienne Rich has said, "I believe almost everything I know, have come to understand, is somewhere in this book."from "Ballade of the Poverties"There's the poverty of wages wired for the funeral youCan't get to the poverty of bodies lying unburiedThere's the poverty of labor offered silently on the curbThe poverty of yard sale scrapings spreadAnd rejected the poverty of eviction, wedding bed out on streetPrince let me tell you who will never learn through wordsThere are poverties and there are poverties.