Download Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski (Laurier Poetry) by Don Domanski PDF

By Don Domanski

With The Cape Breton e-book of the useless, Don Domanski emerged as a outstanding new voice in Canadian poetry, combining formal conciseness with large cosmic allusions, consistent shock with brooding atmospherics, and leading edge syntax with tender phrasings. In next collections, Domanski’s poetry has deepened and improved, with longer strains and extra advanced constructions that trip into the a long way reaches of metaphor. Now, with Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski, the long-awaited first choice from his books, readers have an opportunity to adventure the total diversity of his paintings in a single quantity. Editor Brian Bartlett, in his advent, “The timber are choked with Rings,”, discusses Domanski’s engagement with nature and the transformative strength of his metaphors; his poetic bestiary amd legendary underpinnings; and his kinship to poets like Stevens, Whitman, and Rumi. Like those poets, Domanski is attracted to borderlands among the actual and the religious, the subconscious and the wide awake. His poetry reveals a house for demons and angels, spiders and wolves—and for kitchens and again alleys, forests and stars. In language either fluent and hypnotic, Domanski keeps an expertise of either the magnitudes and the trivialities that reside past language. In “Flying Over Language,” an essay written particularly for this quantity, the poet explains that for him metaphor is a technique to indicate the wealth of being that poetry can in simple terms aspect towards.

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Extra resources for Earthly Pages: The Poetry of Don Domanski (Laurier Poetry)

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38 / Earthly Pages He Leans Homeward the farmer walks as he thinks with a wind blowing all the facts along the ground he carries both hands in his pockets while the wind blows the centuries back through time till they’re stacked up against the Iron Age there’s no sword to defeat the wind the farmer thinks no good masterpiece to hold up to a mind windblown in an arid field the sand grains are many-sided many-scaled and sing among themselves like infinite choirs while pounding their fists into everything the farmer’s eyelids are drumskins the rhythm is like a quick reading of the phonebook numbers beat against his lids addresses also names and a good deal of emptiness to his left there’s a cow standing like a public building closed for a holiday on his right a huge maple tree filled with handshakes and lost conversations The Poetry of Don Domanski / 39 he walks as if he were wearing snowshoes or had some small death stuck to his feet he looks like he’s moving through bad reception on a TV screen but it’s just the world filled with blowing sand the farmer is at the bottom of an hourglass he’s a new way of measuring time time with its loopholes its footnotes its punctuality all askew this man who became a farmer at a young age is now very old he leans into the wind like a monastery at night filled with praying monks leans into God he’s a meditative man he leans homeward where the radio broadcasts the flights of sparrows when no one is around where his dead wife’s slippers manage the stairs without her like two elderly dogs with a few sad habits still intact two votive mutts making their long slow way to paradise.

The Poetry of Don Domanski / 17 Dangerous Words little by little the thistles suffer on the hill bare trees enter the river the wind takes the earth and blows it drop by drop into your ear you are ashes mixed with rain and sleep leaves rustling in a closed hand a mouse dropped out of a cloud dangerous words pass under your window words that no one has ever used before you follow them into the woods your find three words building a fire one word skinning a rabbit and another word far off in the shadows pissing on a violet what do they have for you these five elves these little men this little sentence in the forest?

The Poetry of Don Domanski / 25 The Ape of God and what if evil was a tint of pink against the bone pink star pink water the pinks of a world turned red by turning what if the devil was a cadaverous paste stuck to your gun-blue shoe and what if this point-blank demon this anti-priest this ape of God was simply and closely you dreaming of a better life a better sun better clouds a greener field bluer sea what if all the evil was in your hand at its tiger-tips at its dusty edge would you suddenly dream of heaven’s casino folded under your skin huddled high in your blood such a bright room on a bright night and the angels bringing such gruff and crumpled pages 26 / Earthly Pages to your lips to be read earthly pages to be explained in the pink light the pink spice of their half-small-desire.

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