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Implacable Art
Presents a collection that features an exploration of power, persecution and loss. This work shows the intense relationship between agency and structure in the modern world. It contains poetry that aims to draw us into an ecstatic vision of our own dependencies, dreams and desires.
- GenresPoetry
152 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
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November 26, 2025“Who am I to oppose strength/ which is cold colder than death/ to live in a land that ignores/ this relentless substantial loss…how it numbs me this attention/ to detail by drawing attention/ by presence” (87)
"My little radish, am I neglectful enough?...I feel sorry for this country with You in it...The grass was already growing wild. And the buttercups scarcely" (116)
"Ephemera were/ being confused with permanent plans/ for my future...the sea in inner consciousness/ gleaming across a wide horizon" (123)
"In one body we moved to the stage/ but the doors were often of Iron & bolted against us/ and now we lie falling into microbes & stray foils/ ready to meet our archaeological morning" (131)
"with its geography books locked up in a cabinet/ in a town that was almost arrived at/ before the Phantom Express in a moment of exult/ made a Gothic bolt off with the interior" (132)
"someone else is walking/ out of their past,/ in the clear light/ of grey eyes, a new lamp/ has been installed/ it is square flat onto/ the wall lower than/ half way down, the sun/ at this time of year.../ i was translating..." (136)
"My little radish, am I neglectful enough?...I feel sorry for this country with You in it...The grass was already growing wild. And the buttercups scarcely" (116)
"Ephemera were/ being confused with permanent plans/ for my future...the sea in inner consciousness/ gleaming across a wide horizon" (123)
"In one body we moved to the stage/ but the doors were often of Iron & bolted against us/ and now we lie falling into microbes & stray foils/ ready to meet our archaeological morning" (131)
"with its geography books locked up in a cabinet/ in a town that was almost arrived at/ before the Phantom Express in a moment of exult/ made a Gothic bolt off with the interior" (132)
"someone else is walking/ out of their past,/ in the clear light/ of grey eyes, a new lamp/ has been installed/ it is square flat onto/ the wall lower than/ half way down, the sun/ at this time of year.../ i was translating..." (136)
November 19, 2009
Hearing of the death of Anna Mendelssohn has led me to reread her book. It's just as amazing as I thought it was before.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews