James Carroll: An American Requiem. A stirring, generational memoir about Carroll’s many lives as the son of an Air Force general, a priest, civil rights and antiwar activist, novelist, husband, and father. (Houghton Mifflin)
At night the wind sometimes woke him as it sliced across the tin roof of the cabin, and he would open his eyes in darkness to find his hands gripping the bedframe. Thirty-five knots, forty knots-it was impossible not to gauge the speed of the gusts in his mind. He felt, too, the chastened shudder…
Two kinds of sand. One heavy, gritty, That falters moodily under your toes, like custard; The other, shiny weedy ribs, and further, Out of sight, the standstill sea. You tramp along In sunbonnet and spade, summer’s regalia. You choose a gray snake’s nest, slice into it, And yes, there are lugworms, and you…
The splendid coat that wrapped the favored son In fevered dreams of adulation And turned his brothers’ hearts from jealousy To rage (Behold, this dreamer comes)—though long Since rent and soaked in blood, dried and decomposed— Arrives through the long centuries over Sea and land, the unexpected birthright Of this particular girl. Its separate Magic…
Donald Hall: The Old Life. An autobiography in verse by the venerable, witty, and always edifying poet and essayist. (Houghton Mifflin)
She had strong views on Mrs. Humphry Ward, The Brontës, poor souls, women called George, Novelists known as A Lady. There was always An edginess. Whenever we went too far, Children or parent, she’d flare Oh you Fanthorpes! As if at some foreign breed. She lost some magic when she married us….
for X— When cabbalists declare Each deed we do affects Beings in other worlds, My thought turns round to sex, As it inclines to do, As needle to true north, Considering our case, Weighing it back and forth. What if we had undressed That chaste July, and what If we were being watched…
Robert Pinsky: The Figured Wheel: New and Collected Poems 1966-1996. This graceful, welcome collection gathers four of Pinsky’s books, as well as new works. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
from In the Houses of the Good People When I was a girl I had a place in the stable I’d go to be alone. I cleaned it of all the spider webs and laid down a layer of fresh straw. When Mother began her travail with Elizabeth, I went there to get away…
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