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Mountain Redemption
"In Nick McRae's splendid Mountain Redemption, the contradictions of family and faith are hard to hold in balance. They are the fulcrum of a teeter totter that tips back and forth between passion and violence. But as he meditates on growing up in Georgia and the complexities of the faith he was born into, the poet himself is balanced, thoughtful, judicious—and loving. As he struggles to sustain that love, McRae sometimes borrows the cadences—large, passionate, and elegiac—of the prophets he knows so well."—Andrew Hudgins
Nick McRae is also the author of Moravia (Folded Word Press).
Nick McRae is also the author of Moravia (Folded Word Press).
- GenresPoetry
40 pages, Paperback
First published May 14, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
February 27, 2014
Old songs resung, different cadence, illuminating lyrics
Nick McRae is a Southern poet, honored by many, respected b everyone who has the privilege of reading his works. He places his alchemist's kettle before us, adds old time religions, hymns, bits of scripture, and memories of family, events, disappointments, shudders, and makes them all ring like new songs we've likely heard should our background be similar to his - or touch memories wishfully buried until Nick serves them on a different score. There is very little about family and about the effect of spiritual beliefs he leaves untouched. He rings true.
DRAWL
I
Sweet sorghum on a lover's tongue
Fresh briar marks on her thighs
Black beetles cased in cedar sap
with new-hatched dragonflies
II
A knife wound stanched with masking tape
A bin of cottonseed
One boy's fist on another's jaw
Bone shards in chicken feed
III
What thoroughness What cleanliness
An altar glazed with wax
Deer trails through the dark pine woods
Abandoned railroad tracks
IV
On crumpled onionskin the words
of Christ like sunburn scars
Liquor drawn from sweet corn mash
The black between the stars.
ORPHEUS IN HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA
My mama, godly as she was,
never forgave my daddy for quitting
the church. For politics. She couldn't.
She'd always wanted to marry a preacher
and married one, but then he ran
for mayor and won. The king of Huntsville.
Years later, when her mind was gone,
she told me how he'd lay her down,
his fingers circling her bellybutton,
breathe the scripture into her neck -
The navel is like a round goblet
Which wanteth not liquor - and take her
With biblical authority.
She said that, once he'd shed the cloth,
his touch no longer felt the same.
How could it? He forsook the Spirit.
Now both of then are long buried.
But daddy taught me the fiddle, and mama
sang her hymns so sweet they shimmied
Out her throat and into mine.
How one poet captures so much of the past while examining and strumming the present is something the reader must learn by delving into this brilliant collection of poetry.
Nick McRae is a Southern poet, honored by many, respected b everyone who has the privilege of reading his works. He places his alchemist's kettle before us, adds old time religions, hymns, bits of scripture, and memories of family, events, disappointments, shudders, and makes them all ring like new songs we've likely heard should our background be similar to his - or touch memories wishfully buried until Nick serves them on a different score. There is very little about family and about the effect of spiritual beliefs he leaves untouched. He rings true.
DRAWL
I
Sweet sorghum on a lover's tongue
Fresh briar marks on her thighs
Black beetles cased in cedar sap
with new-hatched dragonflies
II
A knife wound stanched with masking tape
A bin of cottonseed
One boy's fist on another's jaw
Bone shards in chicken feed
III
What thoroughness What cleanliness
An altar glazed with wax
Deer trails through the dark pine woods
Abandoned railroad tracks
IV
On crumpled onionskin the words
of Christ like sunburn scars
Liquor drawn from sweet corn mash
The black between the stars.
ORPHEUS IN HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA
My mama, godly as she was,
never forgave my daddy for quitting
the church. For politics. She couldn't.
She'd always wanted to marry a preacher
and married one, but then he ran
for mayor and won. The king of Huntsville.
Years later, when her mind was gone,
she told me how he'd lay her down,
his fingers circling her bellybutton,
breathe the scripture into her neck -
The navel is like a round goblet
Which wanteth not liquor - and take her
With biblical authority.
She said that, once he'd shed the cloth,
his touch no longer felt the same.
How could it? He forsook the Spirit.
Now both of then are long buried.
But daddy taught me the fiddle, and mama
sang her hymns so sweet they shimmied
Out her throat and into mine.
How one poet captures so much of the past while examining and strumming the present is something the reader must learn by delving into this brilliant collection of poetry.
May 26, 2014
There is much to love in this little book. From the opening poem to the last, this collection rings with clarity, careful observation, and vision. I'm a huge fan.
October 18, 2015
Incredibly raw and honest portrayal of family and a boy's coming of age. These poems sing with praise and pain. I didn't want it to end!
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews