By Miller, Alice
The poems during this notable full-length assortment ask you to strength your self past your individual barriers. they're curious, stressed, and ambitious; they marry lyrical song and complicated metaphor as they look for different human voices past the rumblings of the apocalypse and the stubbornness of delusion. From naked battlefields to crisp Antarctica to the gates of Troy, from rewritten historical past to like tale, those poems ask for whatever extra from the realm than simply driving until eventually the spoke breaks. A poet for whom a technique is simple yet an effective way is worse, Miller lines a course that leads past our limits to the place we set the sky on silent, the place we’re braver than technology, and the place we attempt to unglimpse what we’ve misplaced
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46 You want to swim down the canal to touch the ocean on both sides. The slump of a homeless man by a bank in the town you’re planning on leaving, reaches a hand up to tug gold from the sky itself. * When the gods hand over what the people have asked for, you feel the sky swoop so low that clouds scrape the earth. Among the crowds, you look for somebody who knows you, in the hope they’ll tell a story you have not yet heard. 47 UNEARTH Do you know the smash of atoms I know it grew a field that I tilled till it cracked and sent me under the earth Do you know Caesar I have heard a billion years and each guessed the flavour of his blood Do you know the body As I know you: too well and more with each spent breath Do you know Jesus I knew him Horatio In a wax museum I touched his bloody lips 48 COUNTRYMEN Turning and turning to a never you know we have been here before.
Still the red flags flapping and licking. This is what we used to call a fairy tale. Inside, we are promised, nothing will grow. 23 WET The lakes were incapable of being owned. They turned wild. Their phones rang noon, night, lines curled round and lingering off bright cliff-faces. And the lakes, they kissed those faces; they dangled their voices off precipices. The lakes always remembered their mothers; they could will any dry eyes wet. They did not stand, as we do, trying to turn streetcorners into wetlands by spitting.
21 But beyond breath, perhaps the lake calms, perhaps the glacier’s rush’ll slow, till the earth’s set to still. * There is no cure we know in numbers. The dying animal makes no speech. We know only the continent. We know not to leave the land behind. * We stand our ground on the ocean, and invent what we trust in the earth. In this summer of constant morning, we are braver than science. * 22 Out on the ice, we take eight red flags, and light every volcano for miles. Still the red flags flapping and licking.