More Anon: Selected Poems
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About this ebook
Selected poems of Maureen N. McLane
More Anon gathers a selection of poems from Maureen N. McLane’s critically acclaimed first five books of poetry.
McLane, whose 2014 collection This Blue was a finalist for the National Book Award, is a poet of wit and play, of romanticism and intellect, of song and polemic. More Anon presents her work anew. The poems spark with life, and the concentrated selection showcases her energy and style.
As Parul Seghal wrote in Bookforum, “To read McLane is to be reminded that the brain may be an organ, but the mind is a muscle. Hers is a roving, amphibious intelligence; she’s at home in the essay and the fragment, the polemic and the elegy.” In More Anon, McLane—a poet, scholar, and prizewinning critic—displays the full range of her vertiginous mind and daring experimentation.
Maureen N. McLane
Maureen N. McLane's books of poems include More Anon, Some Say, Mz N: the serial, and the 2014 National Book Award finalist This Blue. Her book My Poets, a hybrid of memoir and criticism, was a finalist for the 2012 National Book Critics Circle Award for autobiography and a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. She lives in New York.
Read more from Maureen N. Mc Lane
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More Anon - Maureen N. McLane
FROM
SAME LIFE
were fragments enough …
were fragments enough
for a life
for a fiction
of continuity
in our every cell
a tiny alphabet restricts itself
to the possible
mutations,
evolution
proceeding along lines
imperceptible
as the day
I was thrown
from the imaginary car
& broke the barrier
of this carrying life
it is true I take pleasure
annihilating all the world
to a penned thought caught
in a fan’s whirring blade
Catechism
Did your mother like you
She was afraid of me
And the kindergarten
Glowed like the yellow sno-cone
And the dingding man
Was gentle kind & true
How old are you
This is my last incarnation
Where did you first see the morning glory
Sometime before the millennium but long after I had grown up
What foods
Chicken pizza powdered milk
What foods
Vegetable biryani flautas falafel asparagus turbot
And then
I fell in love three times each time was violent and small things smashed and bloomed
What world
The place I live is only sometimes shareable thus weeping
And after
That day I realized calm that something tremendous had happened to me but I had not noticed
Diagramming sentences
For a long time I used to go to bed early
Finally a beginning
There is one day it will all end for me
after sappho IV
it’s true the charm may lie
somewhat
in the subject such as gardens
wedding songs love affairs
against these few will speak and all
at one time
may have hoped—
but there is your bending
neck and the small hollow at the base
of your long back
and no charm
other
song likes its own delights and even sadness
in some modes
charms
those whose hearts have moved
so
what to do with the soul
its many
motions
after sappho V
and you
whom I will likely never see again
I hope it has all gone well
that the lover has finally left his wife
that roses now climb the trellis you’d staked
and you’ve left the less-than-stellar job—
—perhaps everything is changed
you deserved every gift
you never got and all the ones
you did. you led so many
onward and if when they arrived
they found themselves
alone, aflame—
you above all know I was left
so, my insides ash—
why blame the fire
for its damage?
for so long it gave a lovely light—
and when I last saw you
and you so lightly said
o wait there love o wait a moment love
how could that bird
in my throat
tho I had snuffed that all out
not revive
Terrible things are happening …
Terrible things are happening
in Russian novels!
Just yesterday I heard
in the café
of two peasants, long friends,
one in sudden possession
of a watch
hanging
from a gold chain
which so disturbed his compadre
he stole
upon the other unsuspecting, prayed
to god
and slit his throat, fleeing
with the watch—
and that’s not the worst of it!
Just yesterday my love and I too
had not exactly a fight
but a reckoning
perhaps, or no—a
conversation
which opened the ocean
of grief
and now she is in another city
perhaps crying
and not because of Russian novels
Excursion Susan Sontag
Now Susan Sontag was famous
among certain people—you know
who I mean—urban informed culturally
literate East Coast people and some West
a few in Chicago in Europe and elsewhere although
Susan Sontag came from Arizona
which is remarkable
only if you hold certain prejudices
about Arizona which I do
having been there twice
and disliking it both times
not that this was Arizona’s fault
it is majestic strange lunar orange desert
flat and then ravine-ridden but Phoenix
is heinous unless you have a certain
po-mo sensibility I associate with men
of a certain age and race and while
I share the supposed race I’m not a man although
there are men in Arizona but I forgot
to ask them what they thought
about the state or Susan Sontag
whose writings between 1964 and ’67
are marvels of incisive thought and style
so much so that you have to wonder
what happened to America
what happened to Susan Sontag
who later published historical