Scribd Logo
Upload

Welcome to Scribd!

  • Hello Ice by Diana Adams Book Preview

    Uploaded by

    BlazeVOX [books]
    335 views11 pages
    Diana Adams Hello Ice 978-1-60964-014-9 " “Comparable to apples, hiding complex sonnets,” the poems of Diana Adams have the density of objects or living things and the width of the most elaborate metaphysical conceit. Sharp snaps of landscapes, beasts of field and fable, keepsakes and dolls, linguistic and imagistic objects accrue in a living assemblage, the shop where every bit of bric-a-brac is a vital memory, a find, a jewel. A magpie dazzler of a book, Hello Ice is, quite explicitly, a world of refraction, re-layering, and rebirth – this is what happens when Alchemy meets Project, and off they go waltzing into the forest together. —Ana Božicevic Geoffrey Gatza at BlazeVOX Books NY has a wonderful talent for choosing talent. Take, for instance, Diana Adams and her marvelous new book of poetry, Hello Ice. Adams is lucky; she possesses an indelible voice, at once irreverently quirky and at other times profound and deeply poignant, and often, which is the most amazing thing, all three of these at once. Adams is one of the poets on whom the future of the genre depends. Hello Ice has the substance to win readers back from the discontented seats of their poetic exile. As she says in the first line of her poem, “Waylaid” The x-ray in the hallway is a screenplay And so, dear reader, we, too, are instructed how to proceed. -Andrew Demcak Diana Adams has given us some of the finest beast poems since Ted Hughes, and like Hughes, she catches the spiritual value of animals as well as their pure thusness. She has the muse on speed dial, to crib a phrase from one of her own poems. Her attention to word and line is impeccable. She also pays attention to the lines of other poets and has made poems out of materials from Emily Dickinson and Wallace Stevens: construction as well as imagination. Imagine a shaman with scissors as well as the traditional drum. If she calls spirits from the vasty deep, they will come. — Bert Almon" Diana Adams is an Alberta based writer with work published in a variety of journals including Boston Review, Drunken Boat, Fogged Clarity, Oranges & Sardines, The Laurel Review, Ekleksogaphia, MiPOesias, Shampoo, Pindeldyboz, Poemeleon, Del Sol Review, Perihelion, Bayou, and Spire. Her second book of poetry Theaters of the Tongue was recently published by BlazeVOX Books.

    Copyright

    © Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)

    Available Formats

    PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

    Did you find this document useful?

    Is this content inappropriate?

    Report this Document
    Diana Adams Hello Ice 978-1-60964-014-9 " “Comparable to apples, hiding complex sonnets,” the poems of Diana Adams have the density of objects or living things and the width of the most elaborate metaphysical conceit. Sharp snaps of landscapes, beasts of field and fable, keepsakes and dolls, linguistic and imagistic objects accrue in a living assemblage, the shop where every bit of bric-a-brac is a vital memory, a find, a jewel. A magpie dazzler of a book, Hello Ice is, quite explicitly, a world of refraction, re-layering, and rebirth – this is what happens when Alchemy meets Project, and off they go waltzing into the forest together. —Ana Božicevic Geoffrey Gatza at BlazeVOX Books NY has a wonderful talent for choosing talent. Take, for instance, Diana Adams and her marvelous new book of poetry, Hello Ice. Adams is lucky; she possesses an indelible voice, at once irreverently quirky and at other times profound and deeply poignant, and often, which is the most amazing thing, all three of these at once. Adams is one of the poets on whom the future of the genre depends. Hello Ice has the substance to win readers back from the discontented seats of their poetic exile. As she says in the first line of her poem, “Waylaid” The x-ray in the hallway is a screenplay And so, dear reader, we, too, are instructed how to proceed. -Andrew Demcak Diana Adams has given us some of the finest beast poems since Ted Hughes, and like Hughes, she catches the spiritual value of animals as well as their pure thusness. She has the muse on speed dial, to crib a phrase from one of her own poems. Her attention to word and line is impeccable. She also pays attention to the lines of other poets and has made poems out of materials from Emily Dickinson and Wallace Stevens: construction as well as imagination. Imagine a shaman with scissors as well as the traditional drum. If she calls spirits from the vasty deep, they will come. — Bert Almon" Diana Adams is an Alberta based writer with work published in a variety of journals including Boston Review, Drunken Boat, Fogged Clarity, Oranges & Sardines, The Laurel Review, Ekleksogaphia, MiPOesias, Shampoo, Pindeldyboz, Poemeleon, Del Sol Review, Perihelion, Bayou, and Spire. Her second book of poetry Theaters of the Tongue was recently published by BlazeVOX Books.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    335 views11 pages

    Hello Ice by Diana Adams Book Preview

    Uploaded by

    BlazeVOX [books]
    Diana Adams Hello Ice 978-1-60964-014-9 " “Comparable to apples, hiding complex sonnets,” the poems of Diana Adams have the density of objects or living things and the width of the most elaborate metaphysical conceit. Sharp snaps of landscapes, beasts of field and fable, keepsakes and dolls, linguistic and imagistic objects accrue in a living assemblage, the shop where every bit of bric-a-brac is a vital memory, a find, a jewel. A magpie dazzler of a book, Hello Ice is, quite explicitly, a world of refraction, re-layering, and rebirth – this is what happens when Alchemy meets Project, and off they go waltzing into the forest together. —Ana Božicevic Geoffrey Gatza at BlazeVOX Books NY has a wonderful talent for choosing talent. Take, for instance, Diana Adams and her marvelous new book of poetry, Hello Ice. Adams is lucky; she possesses an indelible voice, at once irreverently quirky and at other times profound and deeply poignant, and often, which is the most amazing thing, all three of these at once. Adams is one of the poets on whom the future of the genre depends. Hello Ice has the substance to win readers back from the discontented seats of their poetic exile. As she says in the first line of her poem, “Waylaid” The x-ray in the hallway is a screenplay And so, dear reader, we, too, are instructed how to proceed. -Andrew Demcak Diana Adams has given us some of the finest beast poems since Ted Hughes, and like Hughes, she catches the spiritual value of animals as well as their pure thusness. She has the muse on speed dial, to crib a phrase from one of her own poems. Her attention to word and line is impeccable. She also pays attention to the lines of other poets and has made poems out of materials from Emily Dickinson and Wallace Stevens: construction as well as imagination. Imagine a shaman with scissors as well as the traditional drum. If she calls spirits from the vasty deep, they will come. — Bert Almon" Diana Adams is an Alberta based writer with work published in a variety of journals including Boston Review, Drunken Boat, Fogged Clarity, Oranges & Sardines, The Laurel Review, Ekleksogaphia, MiPOesias, Shampoo, Pindeldyboz, Poemeleon, Del Sol Review, Perihelion, Bayou, and Spire. Her second book of poetry Theaters of the Tongue was recently published by BlazeVOX Books.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    of 11

    Hello Ice

    Diana Adams

    BlazeVOX [books]
    Buffalo, New York

    Hello Ice by Diana Adams Copyright 2011 Published by BlazeVOX [books] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the publishers written permission, except for brief quotations in reviews.
    Printed in the United States of America Book design by Geoffrey Gatza First Edition ISBN: 978-1-60964-014-9 Library of Congress Control Number 2010907779 BlazeVOX [books] 303 Bedford Ave Buffalo, NY 14216 Editor@blazevox.org

    \
    p ublisher of weird little books

    BlazeVOX [ books ]
    blazevox.org

    W inter Sugar Its voice on the other end uses an excess of obscura. Ask the sportingly dressed coroner, is winter a terrible or terrific slope of time? Antidotes: elision, secret torte, white salt flowers in worn bowls, swans, virgin gin infused with the nervous quality of doves, watermelon silk, sliced diamonds, hand-written dishes, a mirador, sudden coition. Why did you just put your jacket over your head? Sturgeon swim our river at 35 below, eyes the color of avocados. Upstream the tree-line elopes with music extracted from forgotten cliffs. Daughters covered in mirth hover mid-air. It irks to hear them pick at pastries. Multi-foliate explosives, sugar cracks the carapaces of domestic spaces.

    15

    Celery Boundaries of rib, strong as thighs, bear a height addiction. Each leaf pinned to a song cycle, several possible voltas near the fringe. Slipping thought out of its skin. Celeriac, like clear attack, practiced lemon-green, reverse to purple, and crying in taverns. More like a slice of marsh. Comparable to apples, hiding complex sonnets, a spy with the eyes of an aunt, rainy and sweet. Frilly, filled with strings.

    16

    D ear Fox The color of sleep resembles undersides of stems. Echolalia green, fern and and germ combined. Consider the lemur, lost in mustard flowers, arboreal, nocturnal-demure cousin youll never encounter. Do not startle the partridges twined on my chest. Walk soft, worry is a sound, untuned.

    17

    U nbuttoning

    A tusked birch strikes the air, ghost notes spiral, hang over our table fern-like. Venerable animals slide out of the music playing. Lets be the first to open the cougars mouth. Grass stains a gum-ball tongue. The dusked voice digs us out, makes us tread in homesteaders stealth across the forest floor. Evening puts out feathers for us, a crack in the eye is a good place to hide. Dinner is served where rain falls erratic.

    18

    Bird Play

    The side view mirror has me more raven than crow larger, proud of dread, working with wasps on Tragedies in back alley garbage (islands of tin, one womans cruel work hangs untangled). Self-splitting is a dishevelling sport. Supporting pines are deeply upset, speaking lakes, trunks the strange beige of a Chilean tinamou egg. Air shingles between us, another elaborate plot breathing beings attached by unhappy accidents.

    19

    Train I. In each compartment, bones. Irregular blunt, when reassembled there are odd resemblances. Yes, that woman, femurs carrying her scarved hips, secret antique about her, birded brows.

    20

    II. The engine is fire, needling tree lines. On a bed inside, blocks of sound. Ripe play, if the evening ends on Jello, so be it, perfect confection escapes construction.

    21

    III. A neat track is widening. Under stale star oil todays wind is available for work. As baritones whip the maidencane, a grouse sails. Freightage increases, hold out a glass, make all connections.

    22

    You might also like