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    The End of Michelangelo
    The End of Michelangelo
    The End of Michelangelo
    Ebook128 pages37 minutes

    The End of Michelangelo

    By Dan Gerber

    ()

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    About this ebook



    • This is the fourth
      Gerber poetry book published by Copper Canyon
    • Gerber’s work has
      appeared in many popular national publications, including The New Yorker;
      Poetry; Playboy; Sports Illustrated; and The Nation
    • Born and raised in
      Michigan, Gerber retains strong ties to the Midwest, winning the Mark Twain
      Award for Distinguished Contributions to Midwestern Literature, a Michigan
      Authors Award, and the Society of Midland
      Authors award
    • Gerber’s
      fiction was brought back into print, and his nonfiction collected in book form,
      through Michigan State University Press
    • As a
      poet, Gerber is known especially for his ability to offer consolation and grace through aesthetic
      contemplation, epiphanies in nature, and deep recollection of memories.
    • Gerber is the only
      American poet who also had a career as a race-car driver and was honored with a
      limited-edition replica of his car, a1966 Shelby Mustang. (As of January 2022,
      you could find one on Ebay for about $250.)
    • Gerber is an ordained
      Zen priest.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopper Canyon Press
    Release dateOct 11, 2022
    ISBN9781619322646
    The End of Michelangelo
    Author

    Dan Gerber

    Dan Gerber's Trying to Catch the Horses (MSU Press) received Foreword Magazine's Book of the Year Award in Poetry, and A Primer on Parallel Lives (Copper Canyon) won the Michigan Notable Book Award.  His work has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including The New Yorker, Poetry, The Nation, and The Sun.  Along with poetry collections, Gerber has published three novels, a collection of short stories, and two books of nonfiction. He and his wife Debbie live with their menagerie, domestic and wild, in the mountains of California’s Central Coast.

    Read more from Dan Gerber

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      Book preview

      The End of Michelangelo - Dan Gerber

      I

      Consciousness seems like a mirror of water which shows

      the viewer now the sky, now the depths; and often the water

      is jostled and stirred, and makes a multitude of mirrors

      and transparencies, an inextricable image.

      P AUL V ALÉRY

      Walking toward the End

      I’m beating north again,

      a thousand miles

      from the pole, and as it’s

      still late summer, I

      may get a long way

      before cold nights

      and the hunger of old age

      consume me, a little

      lighter each day, having

      left more of life’s

      sweet confusion in

      the grasses I’ve been

      tracking through since

      crossing above

      the tree line a week ago,

      toward something

      I sense I’ve always been,

      my hunger and discomfort only

      physical, slaked by the joy

      of having nothing

      but the next low ridge ahead,

      as far as I can see.

      World

      There is nothing in the picture

      you don’t see. That is, there

      is nothing in the picture, but

      you can’t see it, as there

      is also nothing beyond the picture,

      which you can see. As you watch

      the picture and begin to notice

      more, the nothing grows less, but

      never less than nothing. For you,

      the picture has no separate

      being, and, like you, the

      nothing in the picture exists.

      As children, we learn to see a ball, a tree,

      a dog sitting at the moment.

      The dog knows little of our confusion, and

      yet calms us with her eyes.

      Staying Home

      for Deb

      It felt like hiding out, you said,

      waiting for the plague to die down,

      keeping watch for the lives left behind.

      You said you saw a soaring hawk let go

      a great white glittering shit,

      a handful of tinsel in the wind,

      making the sky even more blue.

      I saw it too from the other side

      of the house where I’d been alone,

      bowing to the landscape for absorbing me

      all afternoon, as I sat there. I don’t know

      where the time went while I was waiting,

      as if for a sign, to come find you.

      Practice

      Seeing his bodily form, alive

      in the grass and trees,

      becoming a small stone, tumbling

      through a clear stream,

      stretching out the space

      between two thoughts

      waiting around a silence in which

      the thought can still hear him breathing.

      In Praise of Blue

      The brain has never seen the sky, but

      through the eye’s translation

      enjoys the colors it receives, and then,

      there’s blue, the presence

      of the light of which, we know,

      even the sightless can sense,

      a light within? a color

      into which we’re born, or

      borne out of, on a whim?

      color of grieving in ancient Rome, of

      ecstasy in Greece, of divinity

      in Egypt, of Renaissance virgins, lavished

      in ultramarine, of infinite

      distance, of mourning dove’s moan;

      lying awake in bed, deciding,

      if only to delight

      in blue, as I perceive it, to be

      alive another day.

      Friday

      I got an all clear on the

      biopsy of a false-positive that kept

      my life dancing, for a week, near the

      edge of a cliff, trying to meditate in

      a quiet room with one fat fly

      Enjoying the preview?
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