Praying Naked: OSU JOURNAL AWARD POETRY
Autor Katie Condonen Limba Engleză Paperback – 19 mar 2020
Through language both reverent and reckless, Katie Condon’s debut collection renders the body a hymn. Praying Naked is Eden in the midst of the fall, the meat of the apple sweet as sex. In this collection, God is a hopeless and dangerous flirt, mothers die and are resurrected, and disappointing lovers run like hell for the margins. With effortless swagger and confessional candor, Condon lays bare the thrill of lust and its subsequent shame. In poems brimming with “the desire / to be desired” by men, by God, by lovers’ other women, by oneself, she renders a world in which wildflowers are coated in ash and dark bedrooms flicker with the blue light of longing. The speaker implores like an undressed wound: “is it wrong to feel a hurt kind of beautiful?” Ecstatic and incisive, Praying Naked is a daring sexual and spiritual reckoning by a breathtaking new poet.
Preț: 80.78 lei
Nou
Puncte Express: 121
Preț estimativ în valută:
15.46€ • 16.10$ • 13.07£
15.46€ • 16.10$ • 13.07£
Carte disponibilă
Livrare economică 17 februarie-03 martie
Preluare comenzi: 021 569.72.76
Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780814255735
ISBN-10: 0814255736
Pagini: 64
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 8 mm
Greutate: 0.11 kg
Ediția:1
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad Creek Books
Seria OSU JOURNAL AWARD POETRY
ISBN-10: 0814255736
Pagini: 64
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 8 mm
Greutate: 0.11 kg
Ediția:1
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad Creek Books
Seria OSU JOURNAL AWARD POETRY
Recenzii
“As daring as it is vulnerable… Desire, need, and the social and political implications of the body is a labyrinth with no clear end in sight, but it is one that needs to be navigated. Condon’s debut doesn’t shy away from the confessional, and although it examines uncomfortable truths, it never fails at being hopeful, in reminding us that for every perceived flaw, there is a perfection to be celebrated.”—Esteban Rodríguez, The Adroit Journal
“Praying Naked kicks ass and elbows the sky as Condon follows the desire that created her, a gift from her mother. Each prayer is a poem of sacred abandon. Condon is a poet who looks you in the eyes as she sings.” —Joy Harjo, US Poet Laureate
“Katie Condon’s first collection of poems wrestles with belief and flesh in equal measure. God appears alongside lovers, the sacred alongside the profane, with desire—both the ecstasy and weight of it—woven inside and through it all. Beautiful, thrilling, strange, and surprising—a cautious celebration, a hopeful elegy.” —Nick Flynn, author of I Will Destroy You
Notă biografică
Katie Condon’s poems have appeared in The New Yorker and Prairie Schooner, and her work has received support from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and Tin House.
Extras
The Sacrifice’s Prayer
I cannot offer you a sky & an egret or a small marsh & thirty turtles gathered & sunning all in a row.
You are not an airboat—not a steeple from which I hang my white sails. Perhaps you are a window, or a vessel
tailored for the soul & the quiet
tinks of rain on a car-hood—for my voice that said, I grabbed the blanket from the bed
of my truck, when I really wanted
to grab the rain & sea. There is a sea at the back of my eyes.
In it, a dock & your body bobbing in waves disjointed by wind.
You are not a house, not a journey.
The hand with which I bless you knows no God—is not so proud
to prevent me from falling to my knees
& huddling there with childless murmuring. Your pity like the dark lull of the marsh.
The shipping channel is dredged & deep, dredged & deep.
I’ve seen you gather the sea
around your face like a mask.
Help me mask me. I cannot find mine. It is somewhere here—
I’ve felt its sleep for years beating its fists against the dark in my eyes.
Aubade
There are mornings that don’t breathe at all. Always arriving, the jays appear. Or
the morning exhales and I nod at the sun.
I take my birth control right on time.
Imagine: the glare of so many windshields
made of rain; dawn’s abandoned husk on the lawn. Listen to me! I plead to no one. Right now, if I were a mother, darkness would wait—or come running.
My own mother said this:
If a woman held her infant by the feet from a window, I’d understand.
In the air-dew, hummingbirds battle over sugar water. This is a symbol for my life. I fight and fight. I wake up. Steam rises, then disappears, above a dark stream.
The mist a swaddle for no thing.
I cannot offer you a sky & an egret or a small marsh & thirty turtles gathered & sunning all in a row.
You are not an airboat—not a steeple from which I hang my white sails. Perhaps you are a window, or a vessel
tailored for the soul & the quiet
tinks of rain on a car-hood—for my voice that said, I grabbed the blanket from the bed
of my truck, when I really wanted
to grab the rain & sea. There is a sea at the back of my eyes.
In it, a dock & your body bobbing in waves disjointed by wind.
You are not a house, not a journey.
The hand with which I bless you knows no God—is not so proud
to prevent me from falling to my knees
& huddling there with childless murmuring. Your pity like the dark lull of the marsh.
The shipping channel is dredged & deep, dredged & deep.
I’ve seen you gather the sea
around your face like a mask.
Help me mask me. I cannot find mine. It is somewhere here—
I’ve felt its sleep for years beating its fists against the dark in my eyes.
Aubade
There are mornings that don’t breathe at all. Always arriving, the jays appear. Or
the morning exhales and I nod at the sun.
I take my birth control right on time.
Imagine: the glare of so many windshields
made of rain; dawn’s abandoned husk on the lawn. Listen to me! I plead to no one. Right now, if I were a mother, darkness would wait—or come running.
My own mother said this:
If a woman held her infant by the feet from a window, I’d understand.
In the air-dew, hummingbirds battle over sugar water. This is a symbol for my life. I fight and fight. I wake up. Steam rises, then disappears, above a dark stream.
The mist a swaddle for no thing.
Descriere
A collection of poetry charting a young woman’s journey through the extravagant and brutal terrain of desire.