1 671 kr
Skickas inom 10-15 vardagar
1 671 kr
Skickas inom 10-15 vardagar
2 135 kr
Läs direkt efter köp
239 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
"This is the language of a prophet: Levin's art, in this book certainly, takes place in a kind of mutating day of judgment: it means to wipe a film from our eyes. It is a dare, a challenge, and, for all its considerable beauty, the opposite of the seductive...Sensuous, compassionate, violent, extravagant: what an amazing debut this is, a book of terrors and marvels."-Louise Gluck, from the Introduction
Dana Levin was raised in Lancaster, California, in the Mojave Desert. She has received fellowships, grants, and awards from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Academy of American Poets, the Vermont Arts Council, and New York University, where she received her M.F.A. She lives in New Mexico and teaches Creative Writing at the College of Santa Fe.
239 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
From Ars Poetica
Six monarch butterfly cocoons clinging to the back of your throat— you could feel their gold wings trembling. . .
Dana Levin's singular voice and talent are unmistakable. Wedding Day is Levin's quest to synthesize the public and private, to find pattern and connection amid the disparate elements of modern life. Relentless in her examinations, she ultimately puts faith in poetry, believing it is the truest means—and best chance—to bridge the chasms between soul and society. Readers will put faith in Levin's poetry as well.
Dana Levin grew up in California's Mojave Desert. Her debut volume, In the Surgical Theatre, received nearly every honor available for first books and emerging writers. Other honors include fellowships and awards from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Witter Bynner Foundation and the Library of Congress, the Rona Jaffe and Whiting Foundations. A 2007 Guggenheim Fellow, Levin chairs the Creative Writing and Literature Department at College of Santa Fe in Sante Fe, New Mexico
From Library Journal
For her debut collection, In the Surgical Theatre, Levin (creative writing, Coll. of Santa Fe) won the 1999 American Poetry Review/Honickman First Book Prize and the John C. Zacharis First Book Award from Ploughshares; it's no wonder, then, that her follow-up has been anticipated by academic scholars and poetry lovers, who won't be disappointed. While her first work focused on the gritty details of physical matter, often its desecration or decay, Levin's current work offers insight into the most personal and unspoken thoughts that can be easily overlooked: "we were losing our bodies/ digitized salt of bytes and speed we were becoming a powder/ light/ bicarbonate/ what we might have seen, if we had looked." Her voice speaks to the private wars of self and the dark violence of reflection. Readers will find that this work carries the pulse of their darkest sorrows, in the breath of their humanity. Highly recommended for academic and public libraries.--April Davis, STG International, NIST, Oakotn, VA Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information
"intimate and hyponotic...whether turning her gaze inward or outward, these poems question the moral, aesthetic, and metaphysic needs that poetry exists to fill."
--Ploughshares
"Dana Levin's poems are extravagant...her mind keeps making unexpected connections and the poems push beyond convention...they surprise us."
--LA Times
"Images that are satisfyingly clear...and excitingly inexplicable"
--Robert Pinsky, Washington Post
187 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
"Readers will find that this work carries the pulse of their darkest sorrows, in the breath of their humanity. Highly recommended."—Library Journal
"Intimate and hypnotic."—Ploughshares
"Levin has the skilled ear, magnificent tongue, and fierce mind of the truly prophetic."—Rain Taxi
"Levin's work is phenomenological; it details how it feels to be an embodied consciousness making its way through the world."—Boston Review
"Death is the new and unshakeable lens through which I see," writes Dana Levin about her third book, in which she confronts mortality and loss in subjects ranging from Tibetan Buddhist burial practices to Aztec human sacrifice. Shaped by dreams and "the worms and the gods," these poems are a profound investigation of our inescapable fate. As Louise Glüuuml;ck has said: "Levin's animating fury goes back deeper into our linguistic and philosophic history: to Blake's tiger, to the iron judgments of the Old Testament."
They took you in an ambulance even though you were dead,they took you
and my sister said
Why are you saving her if she is dead?
shey shey—
Curve of sky a crescent blade.
Vultures wheeling on thermal parapets, shunyata,
void that flays—
Yak butter, barley flour and tea: you watch him
make the paste.
Dana Levin's debut volume In the Surgical Theatre won the prestigious APR/Honickman First Book Prize. She teaches creative writing at the University of New Mexico and in the Warren Wilson College MFA Program. She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
187 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
"Images that are satisfyingly clear . . . and excitingly inexplicable." —Robert Pinsky, Washington Post
"Intimate and hypnotic . . . whether turning her gaze inward or outward, these poems question the moral, aesthetic, and metaphysical needs that poetry exists to fill." —Ploughshares
"Levin's work is phenomenological; it details how it feels to be an embodied consciousness making its way through the world." —Boston Review
In her newest collection, Dana Levin uses humor, jump-cut imagery, and popular culture references in preparation for the approaching apocalypse. Against a backdrop of Facebook, cat memes, and students searching their smartphones for a definition of the soul, Levin draws upon a culture of limited attention spans as it searches for greater spiritual meaning. The poems in Banana Palace are elliptical by design, the lines often trailing off into a white space of their own making, as if flirting with and resolving in their own isolation.
It was the most glorious thing I had ever seen.
Cross-section of a banana under a microscopethe caption read.
I hunched around my little screensharing a fruit no one could eat.
Dana Levin has published three books of poetry, Wedding Day (Copper Canyon), Sky Burial (Copper Canyon), and her first book, In the Surgical Theatre, won the APR/Honickman Award. A teacher of poetry for over twenty years, Levin splits her time between Santa Fe, New Mexico, and Maryville University in St. Louis, where she serves as Distinguished Writer in Residence.
265 kr
Skickas inom 5-8 vardagar
164 kr
Läs direkt efter köp
194 kr
Läs direkt efter köp
“Levin’s luminous latest reckons with the disorientation of contemporary America. . . . Through the fog of doubt, Levin summons ferocious intellect and musters hard-won clairvoyance.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review
Dana Levin’s fifth collection is a brave and perceptive companion, walking with the reader through the disorientations of personal and collective transformation. Now Do You Know Where You Are investigates how great change calls the soul out of the old lyric, “to be a messenger―to record whatever wanted to stream through.” Levin works in a variety of forms, calling on beloveds and ancestors, great thinkers and religions―convened by Levin’s own spun-of-light wisdom and intellectual hospitality―balancing clear-eyed forensics of the past with vatic knowledge of the future. “So many bodies a soul has to press through: personal, familial, regional, national, global, planetary, cosmic― // ‘Now do you know where you are?’”
“Dana Levin is the modern-day master of the em-dash.”—New York Times Magazine
"The book weaves in and out of prose, and it’s no wonder that the haibun is the generative form in these pages. A form invented by Basho so that he could move from the prose of his travelogues to the quick intensities of haiku, back and forth. Emily Dickinson does the same thing in her letters. And because this is a poet of the western United States—born outside of Los Angeles and raised in the Mojave, then two decades in Santa Fe, now in middle America, St. Louis—maybe it’s right to think of her work in terms of storm clouds: if the prose is an anvil cloud, the flash of poetry at the end is lightning.”—Jesse Nathan, McSweeney’s