By John Ashbery
Witty but heartbreaking, conversational but richly lyrical, John Ashbery's 16th poetry assortment showcases a mastery uniquely his own.
And the celebs have been Shining initially seemed in 1994, towards the midpoint of a startlingly inventive interval in Ashbery's lengthy profession, within which the nice American poet released no fewer than 9 books in ten years. the gathering brings jointly greater than fifty compact, jewellike, intensely felt poems, together with the well known "Like a Sentence" ("How little we all know, / and once we be aware of it!") and the lyrical, deeply relocating thirteen-part name poem well-known as one of many author's maximum. This assortment is Ashbery at his so much available, swish, and elegiac.
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Post yr notice: First released January 1st 2004
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Additional info for And the Stars Were Shining
My dull sister, the calf, stood in the muck near the trough. And I wondered whose side it was right to be on: the corn snake, coiled into a thick rope of patience, waiting, as still as the grain; or the field rat I knew Page 11 would eventually scamper from his nest of stale straw behind the rusted harrow; the little creature whose name was filth, but whose flaw was genuine hunger, for which he stole the corn and died. Page 12 Apology to the Boy in the Photographs These days I don't believe in anything that doesn't have the loss of innocence scrawled across its forehead.
A book stifles a cough. A geranium pauses for emphasis. The longer I'm awake, the more they arrive, the separate things, the particulars, with their hats in their hands like mendicants, like babies on the doorstep, like penniless relatives with stories so farflung and desolate I'd need a heart of stone not to listen. This is the air that set foot in the void, and nevertheless came back, winter woven like a coat around it. These are the ashes of which our footprints are made, and the wind that gave way to the glare.
My first real taste of smiting. The meadowlark safe in the field. Page 32 Classic Migraine on the Ferry from Ocracoke Island It's too far from home to be without a head or I'd throw half into the water and half to the streamer of laughing-gulls flapping backward from the boat. But now the half I'd toss to the gulls is reminding the half I'd give to the water how it's my own fault, this pain; how the doctor clearly told me to avoid chocolate, red wine, pelicans, and ferries between small southern islands, especially during azalea time.
And the Stars Were Shining by John Ashbery