Description

From rough optimism to sharp criticism, fifty American poets present new work dissecting the current political climate in America. Wide-ranging writers bring their bold voices to this collection, including Eileen Myles, Matthew Rohrer, Rebecca Wolff, Terrance Hayes, Joe Wenderoth, and Tao Lin. "Walking by Hope Street" Look at the landscape, A lot of damage, no? But we are here together, And of needing me, here The world needs me, We are too alone. And what of our orange daylight, Growing darker as the lamplit Trees grow dark. There Is not enough to say. But our hands, our gentle Frozen hands sift through Things like numbers out of breath. It will all be okay, I promise. Promise who? Promise the faded land. -Noelle Kocot "Literary Agency" Coretta Scott King has died, the other day. Dream unrealized. Lost and found, lost again, bathos my motivation my Elysian dream. The place inside untutored, incorruptible, without relation. That's something to hold onto, and uncontingency dressing the wound. That's sad and just "what it is." It is what it is. That's what I say when I can't bear the news. -Rebecca Wolff

State of the Union: Fifty Political Poems

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Paperback / softback by Joshua Beckman , Matthew Zapruder

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From rough optimism to sharp criticism, fifty American poets present new work dissecting the current political climate in America. Wide-ranging... Read more

    Publisher: Wave Books
    Publication Date: 18/09/2008
    ISBN13: 9781933517339, 978-1933517339
    ISBN10: 1933517336

    Number of Pages: 144

    Fiction , Poetry

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    Description

    From rough optimism to sharp criticism, fifty American poets present new work dissecting the current political climate in America. Wide-ranging writers bring their bold voices to this collection, including Eileen Myles, Matthew Rohrer, Rebecca Wolff, Terrance Hayes, Joe Wenderoth, and Tao Lin. "Walking by Hope Street" Look at the landscape, A lot of damage, no? But we are here together, And of needing me, here The world needs me, We are too alone. And what of our orange daylight, Growing darker as the lamplit Trees grow dark. There Is not enough to say. But our hands, our gentle Frozen hands sift through Things like numbers out of breath. It will all be okay, I promise. Promise who? Promise the faded land. -Noelle Kocot "Literary Agency" Coretta Scott King has died, the other day. Dream unrealized. Lost and found, lost again, bathos my motivation my Elysian dream. The place inside untutored, incorruptible, without relation. That's something to hold onto, and uncontingency dressing the wound. That's sad and just "what it is." It is what it is. That's what I say when I can't bear the news. -Rebecca Wolff

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