The poems in Reunion insistently turn back toward sources: toward home and the idea of home, toward the body, and toward objects that return us to ourselves. They always surprise, moving from quantum mechanics, wildflowers, and a Bobcat driver to a woman killed by a flying deer, magma becoming rock, and an invasion of flying ants. Fleda Brown deftly unites daily frustrations and suffering with profound psychological, physical, and cosmic questions.
The poems in Reunion insistently turn back toward sources: toward home and the idea of home, toward the body, and toward objects that return us...
The poems in "Reunion" insistently turn back toward sources: toward home and the idea of home, toward the body, and toward objects that return us to ourselves. They always surprise, moving from quantum mechanics, wildflowers, and a Bobcat driver to a woman killed by a flying deer, magma becoming rock, and an invasion of flying ants. Fleda Brown deftly unites daily frustrations and suffering with profound psychological, physical, and cosmic questions.
The poems in "Reunion" insistently turn back toward sources: toward home and the idea of home, toward the body, and toward objects that return us to o...
The poet explains the origin of the poetry books unusual title: A sure way to catch catfish and other bottom-feeders is to squeeze a ball of partially dried cow's blood around a hook. The blood dissolves slowly, spreading its tendrils of odor into the surrounding water. It's like the tight wad of blood relations out of which I keep flinging myself and my words, both to lure whatever is out there and to assure myself of how tightly I'm hooked to the center.
The poet explains the origin of the poetry books unusual title: A sure way to catch catfish and other bottom-feeders is to squeeze a ball of partially...
In her second collection of poems, Fleda Brown Jackson holds with a meditative rapture to the place she call home"home as family, the source of trouble and joy; home as the embellished stories of family; and home as a place called Central Lake. And when the poems move outward"to Stonehenge, Edinburgh, Kitty-Hawk, Roanoke, St. Pete Beach, and the Mississippi River"the past keeps resonating. At last, the voice that remembers becomes nothing but a riding, a hunger. If I were a swan, she imagines, The world would move / under me / and I would always be exactly / where I am.
In her second collection of poems, Fleda Brown Jackson holds with a meditative rapture to the place she call home"home as family, the source of troubl...
All our lives are made of moments, both simple and sublime, all of which in some way partake of the cultural moment. Fleda Brown is that rare writer who, in narrating the incidents and observations of her life, turns her story, by wit and insight and a poet s gift, into something more. Thisis an unconventional memoir. A series of lyrical essays about life in a maddeningly complex family during the even more maddeningly complex fifties and sixties, it adds up to one woman s story while simultaneously reflecting the story of her times.A strange and erratic father, a resigned and helpless...
All our lives are made of moments, both simple and sublime, all of which in some way partake of the cultural moment. Fleda Brown is that rare writer w...
The Woods Are On Fire is Fleda Brown's deeply human and intensely felt poetic explorations of her life and world. Her account includes her brain-damaged brother, a rickety family cottage, a puzzling and sometimes frightening father, a timid mother, and the adult life that follows with its loves, divorces, and serious illnesses. Visually and emotionally rich, Brown's poems call on Einstein, Shakespeare, Sophocles, Law and Order, Elvis, and Beethoven. They stand before the Venus de Milo as well as the moon, as they measure distances between what we make as art and who we are as...
The Woods Are On Fire is Fleda Brown's deeply human and intensely felt poetic explorations of her life and world. Her account includes her b...
