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132 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
What was extraordinary about Elizabeth was the insatiable intensity of her spirit, which nevertheless made her so stimulating and such fun to be with; and her lifelong unyielding will to put this spirit's trials and adventures into words. We are still discovering how extraordinary it is that she so often succeeded.- Introduction by David Gascoyne
By the shores of Lake Superior the castles of grain
Stand in a wilderness no one has measured
But many a wild woman has held upon her mind
Wider and wider spaces before she went mad.
By the shores of the Ottawa walk excited queens
Soothed by the snowflake, companioned by the squirrel
And by the blue Gatineau ambassador and moose
Meet in a common misery and start at the sound of a gun- Imminence of War, pg. 31
The rhyme and the rhyme
If the concentration is absolute
They obey the thought
With a little help afterwards.
But for wobbly concentration
The puzzle forms the strictness
Acts like iron lungs
Props to start up breathing.
One a mad pursuit.
One a sly strategy.- The Rhyme and the Rhyme, pg. 54
Urgency
Brings energy.
And energy
Makes urgency.
From urgency a dying poet speaks.
From energy an adolescent wrecks.
One with a purpose
Heaves old bones,
Risks collapse
For what he knows.
The other, filled
With unholy rage
For holy strength
He cannot gauge,
Hurtles toward hurt,
Destroys his day:
By blind mistake
Iconoclast.
Missions, omissions,
Dangerous needs!
Pray shaping spirit
Supervise their deeds.- Urgency and Energy, pg. 104
Let us invoke a healthy heart-breaking
Towards the horrible world,
Let us say O poor people
Ho can they help being so absurd,
Misguided, abused, misled?
With unsifted saving graces jostling about
On a mucky medley of needs,
Like love-lit shit;
Years after cyclic year
The unidentified flying god is missed.
Emotions sit in their heads disguised as judges,
Or are twisted to look like mathematical formulas,
And only a scarce and god-given scientist notices
His trembling lip melting the heart of the rat.
Whoever gave us the idea somebody loved us?
Far in our wounded depths faint memories cry,
A vision flickers below subliminally
But immanence looks unbearably; TURN IT OFF! they hiss.- O Poor People, pg. 126