By Charles Wright
Charles Wright's truth—the fact of nature, of man's craving for the divine, of aging—is on the center of the well known poet's most up-to-date assortment, Caribou. this can be an elegy to brief attractiveness, a tune for the "stepchild hour, / belonging to neither the sunshine nor darkish, / The hour of disappearing things," and an expression of Wright's stressed questing for a fact past the only ahead of our eyes ("We are all going right into a international of darkish . . . It's ok. That's the place the secrets and techniques are, / the massive ones, those too tall to tell"). Caribou's power is in its quiet, wry profundity.
"It's sturdy to be here," Wright tells us. "It's reliable to be the place the world's quiescent, and reminiscent." And to be here—in the pages of this stirring collection—is greater than sturdy; Caribou is one other awesome reward from the poet round whose impression "the complete global turns out to orbit in one of those meditative, sluggish circle" (Poetry).
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Adam and Eve knew such perfection once,
God's finger within the cloud, and at the ground
Nothing yet springtime, not anything else at all.
But in our fallen kingdom the place the blood hunts
For blood, and rises on the searching sound,
What will we understand of lasting because the fall?
Who has no longer, within the oil and warmth of youth,
Thought of the flourishing of the almond tree,
The grasshopper, and the failing of desire,
And notion his tongue may perhaps pierce the secrecy
Of the six-pointed starlight, and may choir
A secret-voweled, unutterable truth?
--from "A Poem for Julia"
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Extra resources for Caribou
Zarzamora, ^donde vas? A buscar amores que tu no me das. Blackberry Bush Blackberry, with the grey stem, give me a handful of berries to eat. Blood & thorns. Closer! If you love me, I'll love you. Leave on my tongue your fruit of green & shadow, blackberry . Just think of the long hug I'll give you with in the partial shadow of my thorns . Blackberry, where're you going? To look for the loves you don't give me. [Galan] Galan, galancillo. En tu casa queman tomillo. Ni que vayas, ni que vengas, con Have cierro la puerta.
You wouldn't take a turn around my block, into my street. Go ah ead! Leave it all up in the a ir! Lover, little lover. They burn thyme & clover at your house. Cancion de Jinete (1860) En la-luna negra de los bandoleros, cantan las espuelas. Caballito negro. I Donde llevas tu jinete muerto? . Las duras espuelas del bandido inmovil que perdio las riendas. Caballito frio. jQue perfume de fior de cuchillo! En la luna negra sangraba el costado de Sierra Morena. Caballito negro. I Donde llevas tu jinete muerto?
Mueren las siete doncellas. QPor que no han sido nueve? ) El rio las trae, nadie puede verlas. Song of the 7 Maidens (A Theory to Explain Rainbows) They sing 7 donzellas . (Across the sky an arc pattern for sunsets) A soul with 7 voices, the 7 donzellas . (In the white air 7 great birds) The 7 donzellas die (Why could they not be 9? Why could they not be 20? ) The river carries them No one can see them. Eco Ya se ha abierto la flor de la aurora. QRecuerdas el fondo de la tarde? El nardo de la luna derrama su olor frio.
Caribou by Charles Wright