Between 1972, when he published his first book, The Signing Knives, and 1978, when he died at the age of twenty-nine, Frank Stanford published seven volumes of poetry. Within a year of his death, two posthumous collections were published. At the time of this death, as Leon Stokesbury asserts in his introduction, “Stanford was the best poet in America under the age of thirty-five.”
The Light the Dead See collects the best work from those nine volumes and six previously unpublished poems. In the earlier poems, Stanford creates a world where he could keep childhood alive, deny time and mutability, and place a version of himself at the center of great myth and drama.
Later, the denial of time and mutability gives way to an obsessive and familiar confrontation with death. Although Stanford paid an enormous price for his growing familiarity with Death as a presence, the direct address to that presence is a source of much of the striking originality and stunning power in the poetry.
Frank Stanford was a prolific American poet. He is most known for his epic, The Battlefield Where The Moon Says I Love You— a labyrinthine poem without stanzas or punctuation. In addition, Stanford published six shorter books of poetry throughout his 20s, and three posthumous collections of his writings (as well as a book of selected poems) have also been published.
Just shy of his 30th birthday, Stanford died on June 3, 1978 in his home in Fayetteville, Arkansas, the victim of three self-inflicted pistol wounds to the heart. In the three decades since, he has become a cult figure in American letters.
The shorter, stand-alone poems in this collection were the most revelatory. In the longer poems where Stanford is trying to serialize the story of the Chinaman and Born in the Camp with Six Toes and Mama Julinda &co, the form detracts from the narrative. I was frustrated by the ambiguous and fleeting details about each character, had no sense of the emotional depth of their interactions and experiences. I also found myself, especially in these longer poems but largely throughout the entire book, a little annoyed and distracted by the plain speech and line breaks. I have no ear for poetry that doesn't sound like poetry, I guess, and these lines fell like bricks into the street. The shorter meditations were dark and deeply profound and I liked enormously.
I don't know if I am more in love with the legend of Frank Stanford than his actual output? Or if I lack the contexxxt to really appreciate the dangerous expertise of his poetry? Or if it's just not my aesthetic? Or if I'm ignorant and provincial for loving only poetry married to music? A few more years and a pass at Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You may reveal.
"when a cow drinks water we get milk when a snake drinks water we get bit".
this shit is some of the darkest poetry of our day. and boy is it great. i remember reading stanford in college, in springfield missouri not far from the ozarks that along with mississippi consist of the southern macabre that inform these poems endlessly. i forgot how brutal he is, tho it is also as thoughtful and beautiful as i recall. these are poems of stilted desire and rural intrigue not dissimilar and certainly not inferior to the hallowed lorca, but later in the 20th century, with the gore and dreamlike elements cranked up. stanford looks past and also forward straight into the wolf eyes of amerikan decay and boy is he spot on. you can play up the haunted angle of his young suicide or you can see it as literary macabre that stands on its own. stanford creates gorgeous nightmares out of endless southern childhood backwoods mystery. he is surely a stunning and memorable mythmaker and dare i say twisted surrealist. it is sure to stick with me as one of the best and most haunting collections i've ever stumbled across.
I love the poems in this. They're so raw and real and not worried about any sort of convention or form, they're just pure expression. I've reread The Snake Doctors countless times now, a violent tale of love and revenge in an entirely original poetic story. Heavy themes of violence and death punctuate what is otherwise a tender observation of life in the 1960's South.
re-reading, again. or rather, still. (rather still... hmmmm.)
some poets i love because they do interesting & clever things with language or because they present a thought-provoking philosophy. but the ones that always are dearest to me are the ones who slyly reach inside your chest & pull your heart out where you can see it beating in all its grisly glory. Frank Stanford is one of those poets. not for the faint of heart.
THE MINNOW
If I press on its head, the eyes will come out like stars. The ripples it makes can move the moon.
I'm always suspicious about Selecteds, and this one, which is unbalanced and flat, justifies that feeling. I love Frank Stanford's work--it has a dark energy that appeals to me--but this is not the best representation of it.
Absolutely fierce, stunning, brilliant similes and metaphors, 'death' at its most original and compelling!! That he suicided at age 29 is beyond heartbreaking! Am so thankful that his work comes back to light in these selected poems from his seven collections while alive and two posthumous collections. Here are some quotes: "And the moon was a dead man floating down the river." "I wished I was fanning myself in church But there was a heart on the fan With a switchblade through it." "He yawned like a hawk spreading its beak." "The low water and the fog in the swamps Made the cypress knees look like tombstones." "between the thighs of dreams." "She bled through the walls into my side of the house." "She moved in her misery like a pine in the wind."
I underlined the entire collection! The poem titled "Terrorism" melted me! GET A COPY! It breathes through the heart! DEEPLY, MADLY LOVE!
Please read Frank Stanford. Before I even finished this collection I ordered a copy of “What About This” because I needed to read all of Ladies from Hell and couldn’t find it anywhere. So many of these poems crushed me in a way most poems only scratch at the surface. So many of Stanford’s poems left me in the cut—the way he presents his characters, the scene, his imagery, are so real and dive straight into the heart of a thing in a way that makes you feel you were always at the heart of it.
I agree with other reviews on here in that the portions of Stanford's epic poems are poorly presented and not well-served by this collection. The smaller, self-contained ones are exquisite, though, and the general effect is a kaleidoscopic vision of a South teeming with dark secrets and startling violence.
The Battlefield Where The Moon Says I Love You has been sitting in my apartment for half a year. It intimidates me. I grabbed this 'selected poems' collection as an introduction into the work of Frank Stanford. An appetizer before jumping into his epic poem. This collection doesn't disappoint. So many great lines and narrative pieces here. "Allegory of Death and Night" is a perfect poem.
The selected poems of a brilliant, but deeply troubled poet who found his voice amidst the downtrodden and lower class of the American South. He also saw and dealt with Death (in his case, it seems, it deserved the capital letter) until his suicide at 29. Difficult to read at times knowing the history, but a strong poetic voice and creative, seeking mind.
I keep returning to this book, even though Jack Whites press did a good job of reissuing some of his stuff. Swamps, knives, the river, I soak it all in.
I had to pause between finishing this book and reviewing it to let it sink in further. This is very fine writing that feels dark and personal. It doesn't lend itself to a short and pithy comment so I won't try.
But somehow, I'm thwarted in that aim. I'm not certain if it's all bravado and no emotion to tether it, or if it's too violent, or too something. All I know is that it IS extreme and that excess is its virtue.
But it's hard. I don't like the form of the earliest works. As Stanford matured, it settled into something I believe is earnest and moderated and masterful. I wanted more of that.
I do remember thinking of the earliest work: if this is selected works, what the hell crap did he leave out?
In this, I fear I need to backtrack and read all the works as Stanford and not his editor intended.
I bought this book on a whim, mentioned somewhere on someone's blog--I do too much of this, honestly--and jeeze, I come on here and find out that as usual, I'm the last to know how effing good it is. This is the forshizznizzle. Or something. Can anyone point me toward good secondary sources on Stanford?
I finished reading this a few weeks ago, but can't put it back on the shelf. Pretty amazing collection. Some books you read and you like them because it reminds you of something you have thought or strikes you that a strange version of you could almost have written it. Reading Frank Stanford is not like this at all, for me, at least.
"I wanted to ride down to where I come from / On an appaloosa / And take you away for good / I wanted to tie your hands with my belt / And watch you stare at the campfire / In the mountains not saying a word."
Fairly certain these poems will shake the Devil out of anyone.
I never knew how many creek-banks collapsed in my heart as a child until I read Frank Stanford---I'm better for it.
I did not like how many of his poems concluded - it makes you hard to breath, and there is definitely a certain depressing darkness in his choice of images and symbols, however powerful, creative, evocative, challenging, personal, and crazy they are.
Good poetry though. I can see why he is now considered one of the most underrated American poets around.
I definitely enjoyed this, but it is woefully inconsistent. Such is the nature of a Selected. That said, there are some truly amazing poems, such as "Terrorism." I've got to read "The Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You" to further immerse myself in Stanford.
When I read this five years ago, I fell in love with this collection. The figurative language he uses is so unique. I'm having a very hard time finding his other writings but hope to read more of him soon.
Dark, dreamy, frightening poems about the mythical realities of the deep South. I found that these poems intersected very closely with Light in August, which I happened to be reading at the same time.
Unlike anything I've read before. You can feel the intensity coming off the page. Definitely enjoyed "Death and the Arkansas River," "The Picture Show Next Door to the Stamp Store in Downtown Memphis," and "The Singing Knives." I especially love the closing lines of this book. Really great stuff.