Two Open Doors in a Field: The Backwaters Prize in Poetry Honorable Mention
Autor Sophie Klahren Limba Engleză Paperback – mar 2023
The poems of Two Open Doors in a Field are constructed through deliberate limitations, restlessly exploring place, desire, and spirituality. A profusion of sonnets rises from a single circumstance: Sophie Klahr’s experience of driving thousands of miles alone while listening to the radio, where unexpected landscapes make listening to the unexpected more acute. Accompanied by the radio, Klahr’s experience of land is transformed by listening, and conversely, the body of the radio is sometimes lost to the body of the land. The love story at the core of this work, Klahr’s bond with Nebraska, becomes the engine of this travelogue. However far the poems range beyond Nebraska, they are tethered to an environment of work and creation, a place of dirt beneath the nails where one can see every star and feel, acutely, the complexity of connection.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781496232373
ISBN-10: 1496232372
Pagini: 92
Ilustrații: 1 chart
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 6 mm
Greutate: 0.15 kg
Editura: The Backwaters Press
Colecția The Backwaters Press
Seria The Backwaters Prize in Poetry Honorable Mention
Locul publicării:United States
ISBN-10: 1496232372
Pagini: 92
Ilustrații: 1 chart
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 6 mm
Greutate: 0.15 kg
Editura: The Backwaters Press
Colecția The Backwaters Press
Seria The Backwaters Prize in Poetry Honorable Mention
Locul publicării:United States
Notă biografică
Sophie Klahr is a poet, teacher, and editor. Her poems have appeared in the New Yorker, American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Poetry London, and elsewhere. Klahr is the author of Meet Me Here at Dawn.
Extras
Driving Through Nebraska, Listening to the Radio
Dawn on 101.5, The Fever:
Sometimes you’re gonna have to lose, it sings.
Mice behind the lath, swallows in the eaves;
a rush of bergamot, wild sage drying
on the sill, boots already wet from dew.
The branches of a huge burn pile lift like
still-submerged
coral. That old dream again:
the dream again of the house that isn’t.
Why don’t you admit, you said, that all roads
lead to Nebraska. In the time we spent
together, somewhere, a few languages
died. When you said It will always be un-even
between us, I heard a new word
for a field impossible to measure
Parked, Nebraska
you explained something to me about fire
which I knew I would quickly forget. love
is so short, forgetting is so long. this
had been something I needed, what you said
about the fire. for weeks we touched only
in the dark, pulsed like sea anemones.
every morning, you designed a new way
to leave. soon we lost an hour of daylight;
a turn signal of mine had broken—left
side, back. I wanted to believe I could
fix it myself. winter had rolled onto
the acreage like someone turning in
bed, their palm smoothing to fit a lover’s
rib. when it snows, a car can disappear.
Dawn on 101.5, The Fever:
Sometimes you’re gonna have to lose, it sings.
Mice behind the lath, swallows in the eaves;
a rush of bergamot, wild sage drying
on the sill, boots already wet from dew.
The branches of a huge burn pile lift like
still-submerged
coral. That old dream again:
the dream again of the house that isn’t.
Why don’t you admit, you said, that all roads
lead to Nebraska. In the time we spent
together, somewhere, a few languages
died. When you said It will always be un-even
between us, I heard a new word
for a field impossible to measure
Parked, Nebraska
you explained something to me about fire
which I knew I would quickly forget. love
is so short, forgetting is so long. this
had been something I needed, what you said
about the fire. for weeks we touched only
in the dark, pulsed like sea anemones.
every morning, you designed a new way
to leave. soon we lost an hour of daylight;
a turn signal of mine had broken—left
side, back. I wanted to believe I could
fix it myself. winter had rolled onto
the acreage like someone turning in
bed, their palm smoothing to fit a lover’s
rib. when it snows, a car can disappear.
Cuprins
Driving Through Nebraska, Listening to the Radio
Parked, Nebraska
~
Motel, Wyoming
Driving Through Utah, Listening to the Radio
Listening to the Radio, Driving Through Nevada Again
Driving Through Idaho, Listening to the Radio
Motel, Oregon
Driving Through Oregon, Listening to the Radio
Parked, California
Driving Through Nevada, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Arizona, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through New Mexico, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Colorado, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Colorado Again, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Colorado, Listening to the Radio, Thinking of My Father Again
Driving Through Wyoming, Listening to the Radio
Dust Storm
Like Nebraska
Coda: The Hole I Dug
~
Driving Through California, Listening to the Radio
Listening to the Radio, Driving Through Arizona Again
Motel, Arizona
Parked, Utah
Listening to the Radio, Driving Through New Mexico Again
Parked, Texas
Driving Through Texas, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Oklahoma, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Kansas, Listening to the Radio
Harvest
~
Pass With Care
General Note on Creation
Acknowledgments
Gratitudes
Parked, Nebraska
~
Motel, Wyoming
Driving Through Utah, Listening to the Radio
Listening to the Radio, Driving Through Nevada Again
Driving Through Idaho, Listening to the Radio
Motel, Oregon
Driving Through Oregon, Listening to the Radio
Parked, California
Driving Through Nevada, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Arizona, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through New Mexico, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Colorado, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Colorado Again, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Colorado, Listening to the Radio, Thinking of My Father Again
Driving Through Wyoming, Listening to the Radio
Dust Storm
Like Nebraska
Coda: The Hole I Dug
~
Driving Through California, Listening to the Radio
Listening to the Radio, Driving Through Arizona Again
Motel, Arizona
Parked, Utah
Listening to the Radio, Driving Through New Mexico Again
Parked, Texas
Driving Through Texas, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Oklahoma, Listening to the Radio
Driving Through Kansas, Listening to the Radio
Harvest
~
Pass With Care
General Note on Creation
Acknowledgments
Gratitudes
Recenzii
"A restless, stirring examination of travel and place."—Publishers Weekly
"Sophie Klahr's second collection is so confidently crafted that the momentum of her poems carries the reader."—Sylee Gore, poetryfoundation.org
"Over the course of Two Open Doors in a Field, the field and the doors of the title become the body's, and as the speaker's memories are embodied in language, the road trip between geographical states becomes a journey through deeply felt states of consciousness and selfhood."—Adedayo Agarau, Los Angeles Review of Books
"Sophie Klahr's second collection of poems Two Open Doors in a Field takes the reader along on a road trip, that simple and enduring fantasy—the lonesome traveler seeking something—refuge, shelter, escape."—Hudson Review
“Sophie Klahr’s spare twenty-first-century sonnets track a drift toward and away from attachment across a beautifully drawn, often desolate landscape. It’s a national myth, the lonesome rider searching the vast open spaces for shelter and refuge. But now the drifter is a woman as strong as she is vulnerable, and the wide desert skies, like the land beneath them, are compromised and endangered. Two Open Doors in a Field is exhilarating and restless, as scrupulous in its attention to our little roads and highways as it is to our longings.”—Mark Doty
“Sophie Klahr’s poems are perpetual motion machines, stunning in all the ways they blaze through landscapes of adoration and epiphany and ache. From intimate sonnets to panoramic lyric sequences, from Jurassic seas to the spectral glow of motel pools and ‘pulses of song’ beneath a ‘dark bowl of stars,’ this synaptic second collection carries us across ‘deep time’ and its thresholds.”—R. A. Villanueva
“A road map for those of us needing to connect to the world around us, particularly in an era when we’ve felt so isolated from human connection. Like the Virgil of this journey, Terence, Klahr, too, finds nothing human foreign to her. . . . The road is long, the night wears on, but we have ‘a place to sleep in her hands.’”—A. Van Jordan
Descriere
Through sonnets and a long sequence, the poems of Two Open Doors in a Field are constructed with deliberate limitations, restlessly exploring place, desire, and spirituality.