Poetry. SOME NOTES ON MY PROGRAMMING finds Anselm Berrigan, Artistic Director of the Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church, once more in funny, irritable, tip-top form. Surveying the Bush-era cultural landscape and not liking what it sees, the poetry herein confronts that reality in terms disgusted ("The group is/an asshole./Self-censorship/is the ...
Poetry. SOME NOTES ON MY PROGRAMMING finds Anselm Berrigan, Artistic Director of the Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church, once more in funny, irritable, tip-top form. Surveying the Bush-era cultural landscape and not liking what it sees, the poetry herein confronts that reality in terms disgusted ("The group is/an asshole./Self-censorship/is the American avant-garde") and terrifying ("Dreamt I was chopping off fingers/of mine with audience. Not cool"), encompassing odd disclosure ("I don't want my brother to get a job ever") and biting satire ("Osama passes/George the bong/bitching about 21st century/hydroponic weed"). And yet, even if we are all just "Trained Meat," as the title of one poem suggests, the work here never gives in to despair; we may be "under attack/in mourning/all at once" but we also "better make//room for each/grief letting/me see what/lines and/lies/not to take/and how/moment/by moment/to be." A fantastic and necessary book.
Very Good. 1890311200 Student Edition. No CD Included. Access code may be used. Light dirt, wear, fading or curling of cover or spine. Good Binding. Minimal, if any highlighting or writing. Cover has used book stickers or residue.
Publishers Weekly, 2006-06-26 The salient fact to know on cracking Berrigan's third full-length collection is that he is artistic director of the Poetry Project of St. Mark's Church in New York City, the legendary center where his father, Ted Berrigan, and mother, Alice Notley, were active over two decades beginning in the 1960s. Like his previous collections Integrity & Dramatic Life (1999) and Zero Star Hotel (2002), this book draws on the present tension inherent within that public-private history, but moves resolutely outward into "my liberty's consistent dread." The 30-some-odd poems work in a high velocity idiom that is part New York School talking-from-the-hip, part kitchen-sink-ADD and part "gravitas to besmirch turn a/ chiseled phrase into unstable air in which I delight acuity `do I want anyone to understand my dream? No. Never.' " Yet almost every poem contains trenchant responses to the current state of war, from "a big fucking crater downtown/ & I am inhaling corpse dust/ at 3:22 pm on West Broadway" to "blood-rich anti-war diction/ looking forward to serving." Continuing to develop his distinct poetic, Berrigan stitches these notes into intense missives to our "psychotic rates of exchange," drawing light and beauty from "our sheathed collateral wreckage." (July) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
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