Description

Passionate and irreverent, Mortal Trash transports the readers into a world of wit, lament, and desire. In a section called “Over the Bright and Darkened Lands,” canonical poems are torqued into new shapes. “Except Thou Ravish Me,” reimagines John Donne’s famous “Batter my heart, Three-person’d God” as told from the perspective of a victim of domestic violence. Like Pablo Neruda, Addonizio hears “a swarm of objects that call without being answered”: hospital crash carts, lawn gnomes, Evian bottles, wind-up Christmas creches, edible panties, cracked mirrors. Whether comic, elegiac, or ironic, the poems in Mortal Trash remind us of the beauty and absurdity of our time on earth.

From “Scrapbook”:

We believe in the one-ton rose
and the displaced toilet equally. Our blues

assume you understand
not much, and try to be alive, just as we do,

and that it may be helpful to hold the hand
of someone as lost as you.

Mortal Trash: Poems

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£14.94

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Usually despatched within 12 days
Paperback / softback by Kim Addonizio

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Short Description:

Passionate and irreverent, Mortal Trash transports the readers into a world of wit, lament, and desire. In a section called... Read more

    Publisher: WW Norton & Co
    Publication Date: 01/08/2017
    ISBN13: 9780393354348, 978-0393354348
    ISBN10: 0393354342

    Number of Pages: 112

    Fiction , Poetry

    Description

    Passionate and irreverent, Mortal Trash transports the readers into a world of wit, lament, and desire. In a section called “Over the Bright and Darkened Lands,” canonical poems are torqued into new shapes. “Except Thou Ravish Me,” reimagines John Donne’s famous “Batter my heart, Three-person’d God” as told from the perspective of a victim of domestic violence. Like Pablo Neruda, Addonizio hears “a swarm of objects that call without being answered”: hospital crash carts, lawn gnomes, Evian bottles, wind-up Christmas creches, edible panties, cracked mirrors. Whether comic, elegiac, or ironic, the poems in Mortal Trash remind us of the beauty and absurdity of our time on earth.

    From “Scrapbook”:

    We believe in the one-ton rose
    and the displaced toilet equally. Our blues

    assume you understand
    not much, and try to be alive, just as we do,

    and that it may be helpful to hold the hand
    of someone as lost as you.

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