Scribd Logo
Upload

Welcome to Scribd!

  • 168 views

    To The EAVES by Lisa A. Forrest Book Preview

    Uploaded by

    BlazeVOX [books]
    Lisa Forrest To The Eves 978-1-934289-87-7 "In the last ice of early spring, Forrest's lyric rearranges reflection, sharpens senses at the touch of winter's wither and whip.   How a word rooms unsuspected rattle clears an ear space for the pillage & push of language, of places and persons.   For the love of hearing, the concentric snap of lyric is tenderly broken, leaving us this very human music, a candor of eye, mind and heart.   To be played again, and again, songs for summer's jar of fireflies. —Jonathan Skinner These poems unfurl in the reader's palm in bird song and flight: the natural world has never been more sensuous or sung. Yet human nature, thwarted love is her true topic. Lisa Forrest's To The Eaves , takes us to the heights with grace and sweet song. —Brenda Coultas Lisa Forrest is that poet we need at this moment: her work, nearly drenched in ochre tones and reverent of the heft of lonely and rural landscapes, revives the American pastoral and orients us in a psychic place many take for granted to have been lost to history. ""This is our love song tumbling,"" to paraphrase the title poem, and in such a line one senses not only the gravity of love and loss, but one can visualize the rolling hills of some forgotten and dignified place. Forrest reminds us of both hidden geographies and sentiments; her writing is as organic and breathing as ""crackling twigs [and] blazing leaves."" — Ethan Paquin " Lisa Forrest is a Senior Assistant Librarian for SUNY College at Buffalo and the founding member of the school's Rooftop Poetry Club.   To the Eaves is her first  collection of published poetry.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content

    You might also like

    To The EAVES by Lisa A. Forrest Book Preview

    Uploaded by

    BlazeVOX [books]
    168 views10 pages
    Lisa Forrest To The Eves 978-1-934289-87-7 "In the last ice of early spring, Forrest's lyric rearranges reflection, sharpens senses at the touch of winter's wither and whip.   How a word rooms unsuspected rattle clears an ear space for the pillage & push of language, of places and persons.   For the love of hearing, the concentric snap of lyric is tenderly broken, leaving us this very human music, a candor of eye, mind and heart.   To be played again, and again, songs for summer's jar of fireflies. —Jonathan Skinner These poems unfurl in the reader's palm in bird song and flight: the natural world has never been more sensuous or sung. Yet human nature, thwarted love is her true topic. Lisa Forrest's To The Eaves , takes us to the heights with grace and sweet song. —Brenda Coultas Lisa Forrest is that poet we need at this moment: her work, nearly drenched in ochre tones and reverent of the heft of lonely and rural landscapes, revives the American pastoral and orients us in a psychic place many take for granted to have been lost to history. ""This is our love song tumbling,"" to paraphrase the title poem, and in such a line one senses not only the gravity of love and loss, but one can visualize the rolling hills of some forgotten and dignified place. Forrest reminds us of both hidden geographies and sentiments; her writing is as organic and breathing as ""crackling twigs [and] blazing leaves."" — Ethan Paquin " Lisa Forrest is a Senior Assistant Librarian for SUNY College at Buffalo and the founding member of the school's Rooftop Poetry Club.   To the Eaves is her first  collection of published poetry.

    Original Title

    To the EAVES by Lisa a. Forrest Book Preview

    Copyright

    © Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)

    Available Formats

    PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

    Did you find this document useful?

    Is this content inappropriate?

    Report this Document
    Lisa Forrest To The Eves 978-1-934289-87-7 "In the last ice of early spring, Forrest's lyric rearranges reflection, sharpens senses at the touch of winter's wither and whip.   How a word rooms unsuspected rattle clears an ear space for the pillage & push of language, of places and persons.   For the love of hearing, the concentric snap of lyric is tenderly broken, leaving us this very human music, a candor of eye, mind and heart.   To be played again, and again, songs for summer's jar of fireflies. —Jonathan Skinner These poems unfurl in the reader's palm in bird song and flight: the natural world has never been more sensuous or sung. Yet human nature, thwarted love is her true topic. Lisa Forrest's To The Eaves , takes us to the heights with grace and sweet song. —Brenda Coultas Lisa Forrest is that poet we need at this moment: her work, nearly drenched in ochre tones and reverent of the heft of lonely and rural landscapes, revives the American pastoral and orients us in a psychic place many take for granted to have been lost to history. ""This is our love song tumbling,"" to paraphrase the title poem, and in such a line one senses not only the gravity of love and loss, but one can visualize the rolling hills of some forgotten and dignified place. Forrest reminds us of both hidden geographies and sentiments; her writing is as organic and breathing as ""crackling twigs [and] blazing leaves."" — Ethan Paquin " Lisa Forrest is a Senior Assistant Librarian for SUNY College at Buffalo and the founding member of the school's Rooftop Poetry Club.   To the Eaves is her first  collection of published poetry.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    Download as pdf or txt
    168 views10 pages

    To The EAVES by Lisa A. Forrest Book Preview

    Uploaded by

    BlazeVOX [books]
    Lisa Forrest To The Eves 978-1-934289-87-7 "In the last ice of early spring, Forrest's lyric rearranges reflection, sharpens senses at the touch of winter's wither and whip.   How a word rooms unsuspected rattle clears an ear space for the pillage & push of language, of places and persons.   For the love of hearing, the concentric snap of lyric is tenderly broken, leaving us this very human music, a candor of eye, mind and heart.   To be played again, and again, songs for summer's jar of fireflies. —Jonathan Skinner These poems unfurl in the reader's palm in bird song and flight: the natural world has never been more sensuous or sung. Yet human nature, thwarted love is her true topic. Lisa Forrest's To The Eaves , takes us to the heights with grace and sweet song. —Brenda Coultas Lisa Forrest is that poet we need at this moment: her work, nearly drenched in ochre tones and reverent of the heft of lonely and rural landscapes, revives the American pastoral and orients us in a psychic place many take for granted to have been lost to history. ""This is our love song tumbling,"" to paraphrase the title poem, and in such a line one senses not only the gravity of love and loss, but one can visualize the rolling hills of some forgotten and dignified place. Forrest reminds us of both hidden geographies and sentiments; her writing is as organic and breathing as ""crackling twigs [and] blazing leaves."" — Ethan Paquin " Lisa Forrest is a Senior Assistant Librarian for SUNY College at Buffalo and the founding member of the school's Rooftop Poetry Club.   To the Eaves is her first  collection of published poetry.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    Download as pdf or txt
    of 10

    TO THE EAVES

    Poems by LISA FORREST

    BlazeVOX [books]
    Buffalo, NY

    TO THE EAVES by Lisa A. Forrest Copyright 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED For permission to reprint more than several lines of this book or for other inquiry, please write to: BlazeVOX [books] 14 Tremaine Ave Kenmore, NY 14217 editor@blazevox.org | www.blazevox.org Cover art by Nathan Naetzker Cover Design by Molly Jarboe Author Photo by Molly Jarboe ISBN 10: 1-934289-87-6 ISBN 13: 978-1-934289-87-7 Library of Congress Control Number: 2008920496

    publisher of weird little books

    BlazeVOX [ books ]
    blazevox.org
    2 4 6 8 0 9 7 5 3 1

    11

    PORCELAIN

    In the end it's all the same want for tenderness. Grounded on my knees I clean house for days outside water trickling constant from the roof steadily reminding me we've fallen mute, you & I the kitchen faucet twisted tight drips stubborn this tired porcelain sink scrubbed clear of you bares an opaque sadness that can't be undone I haven't washed the windows or the sheets where we slept touching until noon our faces streaked.

    12

    UNTITLED FOR NOW

    You stand with your hands in your pockets, rain dripping from your hat. I asked the man in the store to try on almost every hat before I picked that hat, now your hat your face surprised when we cracked the same crumpled fortune.

    13

    EVEN THE SIDEWALKS

    Even the sidewalks are in bloom I find you crouched bare ankled in the dim hollow elm folded clear of winter's wither and whip the owls unseen quavering distant above us.

    14

    JUST A MOTEL ALONG THE WAY (Somewhere in Indiana)

    The television just out of straight sight from the bed we face the window draped wall faded diner flickering morning vacant

    15

    LIGHT, SURPRISING

    We had never seen fireflies before. The Price is Right too loud through the kitchen screen my grandmother laughs alone at the table. I want to fill up a jar with just one firefly hammer some holes in for air, add some grass and twigs for comfort. The boys across the street dribble basketballs all day and most of the night long we sit on the cement steps watching the boys and the fireflies and listening to the boys and watching the lights keep beat to the balls echoing against the pavement. The fireflies and the boys awake all night the emptiness and the light, surprising. I cant remember if we ever slept.

    16

    WARM EVENINGS

    The white haired woman with no chair on her porch sits in her thin nightgown singing hello to lovers holding hands wordless as they pass.

    17

    True Crush #1 Charming Tree-Lined St. (upper) Buffalo, NY 1422? Dear One and Only True Crush, Last night, I dreamt of you & I flying wearing space packs on our backs. It was daylight when we landed in the open-air market to browse for small space pets. You wore those boots again, walking in circles in the elevator. In your bathroom at that party, I saw the brush you use to put shaving cream on your face. I wanted to pick it up and feel the bristles slide down the bone of my cheek. I am funny like that he said that's the problem to know you and not have the crush is to have no eyes to see no ears to hear no heart to speak of, really. You are writing my name with reflection. Glossy and deliberateyou writing my name with reflection. Faithfully Yours, Secret Admirer

    You might also like