This is a strange book: visionary and dark. It stutters out a kind of music: repeated phrases which accumulate errors and mutate as they go like chromosomes or, as Woodward puts it better, 'visible fissile ribbons.' It's as if we were present for the moments of creation and extinction. Uncanny Valley is ominous and beautiful.— Rae Armantrout
The most breathtaking Rae Armantrout quotes that will activate your inner potential
The ghosts swarm. They speak as one person. Each has left something undone.
Curled up in bed, I’m young in the old way.
Like most of my poems, 'Lie' has several sources: I read a very troubling book called The Sixth Extinction. I took note of the way people, including me, enjoy talking knowledgeably about how the world will end. I drove to Tucson and saw the desert flowering on either side of the road. And I glanced at my spam to see what people wanted to sell me these days.
Thus drivers inching southward will see the phalanx of birds heading west as one spontaneous gesture.
Like all my poems, 'Negotiations' has several sources.
It deals with aging lovers and the often silent deals they make. Thinking about bargains made me think of The Little Mermaid and that made me remember something I had just read about the incredibly complex process by which tadpoles (actual little mermaids) are somehow able to reabsorb their tails and fashion their future frog legs.
I tend to like the way poets form communities.
Writing can be lonely after all. Modern life can be lonely. Poets do seem to be more social than fiction writers. This could be because of poetry's roots in the oral tradition - poetry is read aloud and even performed. I'm just speculating, of course. At any rate, because poets form these groups, they learn from one another. That is one of the best things about being a poet.
The future is all around here.' It's a place, anyplace where we don't exist.
The fear that all this will end. The fear that it won't.
Metaphor is ritual sacrifice. It kills the look-alike. No, metaphor is homeopathy.
Poetry wants to make things mean more than they mean, says someone, as if we knew how much things meant, and in what unit of measure.
Carried by light, images remain while sensation is so evanescent as to be always beyond belief.
I know you by your willingness.
The crowd is made of little gods, and there is still no heaven.
clarity need not be equivalent to / readability. How readable is the world?
We sleep together in the dark but confuse light with love.
But here I hold your dream in my poem.
Lily Brown writes with and against things in poems that are coiled up tight as springs (or snakes). A believer in the power of the line, she writes, 'I think the plastics/and sink them' then 'Where is the sand/man hiding the dirt.' These terse, biting poems will make you look around and wonder.
We are all full of discourses that we only half understand and half mean.