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Poems: New and Selected
Poems: New and Selected
Poems: New and Selected
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Poems: New and Selected

Автор Ron Rash

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A collection of haunting lyricism that evokes the beauty and hardship of the rural South, by a revered American master of letters—the award-winning, bestselling author of the novels Serena, Something Rich and Strange, and Above the Waterfall.

In this incandescent, profound, and accessible collection, beloved and award-winning poet, novelist, and short-story writer Ron Rash vividly channels the rhythms of life in Appalachia, deftly capturing the panoply of individuals who are its heart and soul—men and women inured to misfortune and hard times yet defined by tremendous fortitude, resilience, and a fierce sense of community.

In precise, supple language that swerves from the stark to the luminous, Rash richly describes the splendor of the natural landscape and poignantly renders the lives of those dependent on its bounty—in cotton mills and tobacco fields, farmlands and forests. The haunting memories and shared histories of these people—their rituals and traditions—animate this land, and are celebrated in Rash’s crystalline, intensely imagined verse.

With an eye for the surprising and vivid detail, Ron Rash powerfully captures the sorrows and exaltations of this wondrous world he knows intimately. Illuminating and indelible, Poems demonstrates his rich talents and confirms his legacy as a standard-bearer for the literature of the American South.

ЯзыкEnglish
ИздательHarperCollins
Дата выпуска15 мар. 2016 г.
ISBN9780062435538
Poems: New and Selected
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Автор

Ron Rash

Ron Rash is the author of the 2009 PEN/Faulkner finalist and New York Times bestseller Serena and Above the Waterfall, in addition to four prizewinning novels, including The Cove, One Foot in Eden, Saints at the River, and The World Made Straight; four collections of poems; and six collections of stories, among them Burning Bright, which won the 2010 Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award, and Chemistry and Other Stories, which was a finalist for the 2007 PEN/Faulkner Award. Twice the recipient of the O. Henry Prize, he teaches at Western Carolina University.

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    Poems - Ron Rash

    Dedication

    For family

    Epigraph

    "I had my existence. I was there.

    Me in place and the place in me."

    —Seamus Heaney, A Herbal

    Contents

    Dedication

    Epigraph

    Resolution

    RAISING THE DEAD

    Last Service

    Under Jocassee

    Taking Down the Lines

    Fall Creek

    Shee-Show

    Deep Water

    In Dismal Gorge

    Black-Eyed Susans

    Whippoorwill

    Shelton Laurel

    Wolf Laurel

    Speckled Trout

    In the Barn

    Barn Burning: 1967

    Work, for the Night Is Coming

    The Debt

    Watauga County: 1974

    Burning the Field

    At Reid Hartley’s Junkyard

    Spear Point

    Kephart in the Smokies

    Barbed Wire

    The Search

    Brightleaf

    At Leicester Cemetery

    Madison County, June 1999

    The Wolves in the Asheville Zoo

    The Watch

    Bartram Leaves Jocassee

    Carolina Parakeet

    The Vanquished

    A Homestead on the Horsepasture

    Bottomland

    Tremor

    Analepsis

    The Day the Gates Closed

    Beyond the Dock

    The Men Who Raised the Dead

    AMONG THE BELIEVERS

    On the Border

    Plowing on Moonlight

    The Corpse Bird

    Madison County: 1864

    On the Watauga

    Before

    The Exchange

    A Preacher Who Takes Up Serpents Laments the Presence of Skeptics in His Church

    The Afflicted

    The Preacher Is Called to Testify for the Accused

    Signs

    Animal Hides

    The Ascent

    From The Mabinogion

    In a Springhouse at Night

    Blue River

    Spring Lizards

    Watershed

    Ginseng

    Lasting Water

    Passage

    Barn Loft: 1959

    The Fox

    August 1959: Morning Service

    Abandoned Homestead in Watauga County

    Among the Believers

    Good Friday 1995, Driving Westward

    EUREKA MILL

    Invocation

    Eureka

    In a Dry Time

    Mill Village

    Low Water

    Spring Fever

    Accident

    The Sweeper

    The Famous Photographer Visits Eureka

    Bearings

    Jokes

    The Stretch-Out

    Flying Squadron

    The Ballad of Ella Mae Wiggins

    1934

    Black and White

    Boundaries

    Revenant

    Brown Lung

    Plane Crash

    Listening to WBT

    Last Interview

    First Shift

    Photograph of My Parents Outside Eureka Cotton Mill. Dated June 1950

    July 1949

    WAKING

    First Memory

    The Trout in the Springhouse

    Milking Traces

    Sleepwalking

    Junk Car in Snow

    Time Flow

    Watauga County: 1959

    Bonding Fire

    Pocketknives

    Shadetree

    Car Tags

    Spillcorn

    Emrys

    Mirror

    Woman Among Lightning: Catawba County Fair, 1962

    Bloodroot

    The Reaping

    Elegy for Merle Watson

    White Wings

    Resonance

    Three A.M. and the Stars Were Out

    Genealogy

    The Code

    The Crossing

    The Pact

    Good Friday 2006: Shelton Laurel

    Reading the Leaves

    Boy in a Boxcar

    Pentecost

    Watauga County: 1962

    Price Lake

    NEW POEMS

    Wet Moon

    Accent

    The Country Singer Explains Her Muse

    Weasel

    Tracks

    Moody Spring

    The Call

    Direction

    Acknowledgments

    About the Author

    Also by Ron Rash

    Credits

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    RESOLUTION

    The surge and clatter of whitewater conceals

    how shallow underneath is, how quickly gone.

    Leave that noise behind. Come here

    where the water is slow, and clear.

    Watch the crawfish prance across the sand,

    the mica flash, the sculpin blend with stone.

    It’s all beyond your reach though it appears

    as near and known as your outstretched hand.

    RAISING THE DEAD

    LAST SERVICE

    Though cranes and bulldozers came,

    yanked free marble and creek stones

    like loose teeth, and then shovels

    unearthed coffins and Christ’s

    stained glass face no longer paned

    windows but like the steeple,

    piano, bell, and hymnals

    followed that rolling graveyard

    over the quick-dying streams,

    the soon obsolete bridges—

    they still congregated there,

    wading then crossing in boats

    those last Sunday nights, their farms

    already lost in the lake,

    nothing but that brief island

    left of their world as they lit

    the church with candles and sang

    from memory deep as water

    old hymns of resurrection

    before leaving that high ground

    where the dead had once risen.

    UNDER JOCASSEE

    One summer morning when

    the sky is blue and deep

    as the middle of the lake,

    rent a boat and shadow

    Jocassee’s western shoreline

    until you reach the cove that

    once was the Horsepasture River.

    Now bow your head and soon

    you’ll see as through a mirror

    not a river but a road

    flowing underneath you.

    Follow that road into

    the deeper water where

    you’ll pass a family graveyard,

    then a house and barn.

    All that’s changed is time,

    so cut the motor and drift

    back sixty years and remember

    a woman who lived in that house,

    remember an August morning

    as she walks from the barn,

    the milking done, a woman

    singing only to herself,

    no children yet, her husband

    distant in the field.

    Suddenly she shivers,

    something dark has come

    over her although

    no cloud shades the sun.

    She’s no longer singing.

    She believes someone

    has crossed her grave, although

    she will go to her grave,

    a grave you’ve just passed over,

    wondering why she looked up.

    TAKING DOWN THE LINES

    They tore the telephone lines

    from the valley like unhealed

    stitches, poles and wires hauled off

    through which voices had once flowed

    across Jocassee like freshets

    crisscrossing, running backward

    into far coves where one phone

    might be shared by five families.

    In those lines was sediment

    of births and sickness, deaths,

    love vows and threats, all passed on

    mouth to mouth, vital as breath

    before silenced in the lake’s

    currents of lost connections.

    FALL CREEK

    As though shedding an old skin,

    Fall Creek slips free from fall’s weight,

    clots of leaves blackening snags,

    back of pool where years ago

    local lore claims clothes were shed

    by a man and woman wed

    less than a month, who let hoe

    and plow handle slip from hands,

    left rows half done, crossed dark waves

    of bottomland to lie on

    a bed of ferns, make a child,

    and

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