Now in paperback, this stunning collection of elegies--a finalist for the National Book Award--bears witness to the small beauties and inevitable losses of our transient life.
Elegy for a Broken Machine is a son's lament for his father. It takes us from the luminous world of childhood to the fluorescent glare of operating rooms and recovery wards, and into the twilight lives of those who must go on. In one poem Phillips watches his sons play "Mercy" just as he did with his brother: hands laced, the stronger pushing the other back until he grunts for mercy, "a game we played // so many times / I finally taught my sons, // not knowing what it was, / until too late, I'd done." Phillips documents the unsung joys of midlife, the betrayals of the human body, and his realization that as the crowd of ghosts grows, we take our places, next in line. The result is a twenty-first-century memento mori, fashioned not just from loss but also from praise, and a fierce love for the world in all its ruined splendor.
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PATRICK PHILLIPS is the author of two previous poetry collections, Boy and Chattahoochee, a work of nonfiction, Blood at the Root: A Racial Cleansing in America, and is translator of When We Leave Each Other: Selected Poems by the Danish writer Henrik Nordbrandt. His honors include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Guggenheim Foundation, the Kate Tufts Discovery Award, a Pushcart Prize, and the Lyric Poetry Award from the Poetry Society of America. Phillips lives in Brooklyn, New York, and teaches at Drew University.
Elegy for a Broken Machine
My father was trying
to fix something
and I sat there just watching,
like I used to,
whenever something
went wrong.
I kept asking where he’d been,
until he put down a wrench
and said Listen:
dying’s just something
that happens sometimes.
Who knows
where that kind of dream comes from?
Why some things
vanish, and some
just keep going forever?
Like that look on his face
when he’d stare off at something
I could never make out
in the murky garage,
his ear pressed
to whatever it was
that had died—
his eyes listening for something
so deep inside it, I thought
even the silence,
if you listened,
meant something.
*****
Old Love
You, lovely beyond
all lovely, who
I’ve loved since I
first looked into
your blue
beyond blue eyes,
are no longer
anywhere on earth
the girl these words
call out to,
though never, since,
have I not been
a darkening wood
she walks through.
*****
The Guitar
It came with those scratches
from all their belt buckles,
palm-dark with their sweat
like the stock of a gun:
an arc of pickmarks cut
clear through the lacquer
where all the players before me
once strummed—once
thumbed these same latches
where it sleeps in green velvet.
Once sang, as I sing, the old songs.
There’s no end, there’s no end
to this world, everlasting.
We crumble to dust in its arms.
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
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Paperback. Etat : new. Paperback. Now in paperback, this stunning collection of elegies--a finalist for the National Book Award--bears witness to the small beauties and inevitable losses of our transient life.Now in paperback, this stunning collection of elegies--a finalist for the National Book Award--bears witness to the small beauties and inevitable losses of our transient life.Elegy for a Broken Machine is a son's lament for his father. It takes us from the luminous world of childhood to the fluorescent glare of operating rooms and recovery wards, and into the twilight lives of those who must go on. In one poem Phillips watches his sons play "Mercy" just as he did with his brother: hands laced, the stronger pushing the other back until he grunts for mercy, "a game we played // so many times / I finally taught my sons, // not knowing what it was, / until too late, I'd done." Phillips documents the unsung joys of midlife, the betrayals of the human body, and his realization that as the crowd of ghosts grows, we take our places, next in line. The result is a twenty-first-century memento mori, fashioned not just from loss but also from praise, and a fierce love for the world in all its ruined splendor. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability. N° de réf. du vendeur 9780804172943
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