Oliver Egger – författare

A chapbook of love poems from Pulitzer Prize winner Yusef Komunyakaa/>/>I Said That Love Heals From Inside: Love Poems is a small treasure featuring five decades of love poems by Pulitzer Prize winning poet Yusef Komunyakaa. Komunyakaa is a poet whose work aches with a longing that is rarely easily resolved but rather burns fiercely in each line. Every poem in this collection longs for life, for passion, for a different history, a past long lost, and ultimately to love and to be loved. This selection of poems captures a broad understanding of the love poetry category–there is love and the lack of it everywhere: in the bedroom and on the basketball court in the Jazz club and on the battlefield. As Komunyakaa writes, "Hard love, it's hard love."

A chapbook of new and selected mother poems by celebrated poet Li-Young Lee.I Ask My Mother to Sing contains five decades of poems by the acclaimed Asian-American poet, Li-Young Lee about his own mother and the many meanings of motherhood. This collection follows Lee's entire career, from his debut Rose (BOA, 1986) to his most recent book, The Invention of the Darling (W.W. Norton, 2024). The chapbook also includes seven new and previously unpublished poems. Sample poem: The Inheritance Mother, your hair has fallen for the last time, and I can't raise it up. And I can't put it down. I can't leave it on the ground. The ground is too crowded with the living, too teeming with the dead.I can't store it in the sky. The sky's too full of birds and clouds and airplanes. And the seas are full of mountains and creatures and ships coming and going. And as long as earth turns, all of the seasons are full of days. There's no place to lay your hair down. Sleep won't have it. Your hair whispers too many secrets and stories. Night doesn't want it. There are no stars your hair won't swallow. When you were alive, you gathered it, bound it, and piled it, to balance on the top of your head. A small black urn, it shone. Later, it shone white. But your hair has come undone once and for all time, and what was one now is many. What started at your crown, now has no beginning. What stopped at your waist, now has no end. Now can't be collected or dispersed. Now neither story nor song can comb or weigh. Now has no measure or address. Now can't be counted or left out. And I can't carry it. And I can't put it down.