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The Copper Beech- Marie Howe

Immense, entirely itself
It wore the yard like a dress
with limbs low enough for me to enter it
and climb the crooked ladder to where
I could lean against the trunk and practice being alone
One day, I heard the sound before I saw it,
rain fell darkening the sidewalk
Sitting close to the center not very high in the branches
I heard it hitting the high leaves and I was happy
Watching it happen without it happening to me

“the air thick now with their separate listening,

and again the girl‘s voice, now quietly weeping, and the creak of her bed...
In the game, someone has to touch you to free you

then you‘re human again.” #gutted

Wow. Any attempt at a review would be woefully inadequate. I don't know how to critically assess the rhythm or rhyme or the feelings the content evokes. When I read poetry, I feel something or I feel everything or I feel nothing.

This poetry haunts. I feel all the feels.

Just finished A Gentleman in Moscow and now for some #readathon palate cleansing with #poetry.

#deweysreadathon

#aprilbookshowers Day23: #poetry
I haven't read much poetry in recent years. These two are on my TBR for 2017.
@RealLifeReading

To better express myself, I'll write this review in the form of haiku:

Love love love love love,
Love love love love love love love.
Love love love love love.

Ages ago, I read a poem that's been haunting me ever since. I couldn't remember where I read it or who wrote it, but it floated in the back of my mind for years. Recently, I was listening to Will Schwalbe's Books for Living and he talked about a collection of poems by Marie Howe and the title was pulling at me... Sure enough, I dug up the collection at the library and the second to last poem was THE POEM I'd been ruminating on for years. 📝❤️

#aprilbookshowers Day4: #muscles
Blurry muscles from off the shelf. Two books I haven't read.
@RealLifeReading

Straight out of the gate

Me: sorry we can't publish your poetry book, no one buys poetry anymore
Me: *spends a frankly baffling amount of money on poetry books*