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Cascadia (Wesleyan Poetry Series) epub download

by Brenda Hillman


The book is Hillman's sixth collection and her most wide-ranging. The problem the book poses is nothing less than a phenomenology of transformation. has been added to your Cart.

The book is Hillman's sixth collection and her most wide-ranging. In her previous work.

In stock on October 3, 2019. In Death Tractates, Brenda Hillman uses poetry to talk about death in a genuine way. In the first poem, for example, some "other voice" is talking to her. Have you ever heard a voice talking to you when you are wondering about death?

Республика каскадия (Wesleyan поэзия серия) от бренда горца идеальное состояние . . Named for the ancient landform that preceded present-day California, Brenda Hillman's Cascadia creates from geological turbulence a fluid poetics of place.

Республика каскадия (Wesleyan поэзия серия) от бренда горца идеальное состояние . Состояние товара: Как новый. The book is Hillman's sixth collection and her most wide-ranging.

Brenda Hillman foregrounds the other side of art, the part that says, "No, whatever box you want to put me in, I don't quite fit there. She does this with carefully crafted leaps, the association of disparate ideas in a way that keeps the reader with her, but seldom very comfortably. Once again with this, her eighth volume of poetry, she audaciously meets each poem on its own terms.

Brenda Hillman Brenda Hillman has received many awards, including a Guggenheim .

Brenda Hillman has received many awards, including a Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship and the Delmore Schwartz Memorial Award for Poetry. She lives in Kensington, California, and teaches at St. Mary's College in Moraga, CA. Her other books, all published by Wesleyan, include Loose Sugar (1997), Death Tractates (1992), Bright Existence (1992), and Fortress (1989).

Brenda Hillman (born March 27, 1951 in Tucson, Arizona) is an American poet and translator

Brenda Hillman (born March 27, 1951 in Tucson, Arizona) is an American poet and translator

Cascadia (Wesleyan Poetry Series). In Brenda Hillman’s Cascadia, a twin(n)ing of selfscape and landscape occurs.

Cascadia (Wesleyan Poetry Series).

Hillman’s early poetry collections received critical praise for their .

Hillman’s early poetry collections received critical praise for their transfiguration of experience. With the publication of Loose Sugar, however, Hillman acquired a formidable reputation in the world of contemporary poetry. Cascadia (2001) and Pieces of Air in the Epic (2003) both use complicated structures to achieve what Forrest Gander has called poetic architectures. Hillman spoke to Poets and Writers about her process of composition in Cascadia: One of the ideas I got from André Breton when I read him in college is the use of chance as anchor. Pieces of Air in the Epic and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize-winning Practical Water (2010) followed.

Cascadia Poetry Festival Reading: Brenda Hillman.

Named for the ancient landform that preceded present-day California, Brenda Hillman's Cascadia creates from geological turbulence a fluid poetics of place. The book is Hillman's sixth collection and her most wide-ranging. The problem the book poses is nothing less than a phenomenology of transformation. In her previous work, Hillman's investigations of alchemy and of contemporary life have created their own distinct mythologies, and here she turns to the first of the four basic elements, earth, to demonstrate a visionary science with a combination of lightness, wit and force. Embodied in syntax as unpredictable as the earth's movements, these poetic forms speak to and query the landforms as the line between faith and science blurs. Short lyrics inspired by the California missions, each with a retablo of punctuation, reflect on the solitude and history of the sign as it moves through the quotidian. Set among these lyrics, each of the three long poems in the book presents an aspect of Hillman's topography. By the end of this powerful work, a new state is visible: a Modernist poetics, subjected to immense internal pressures, above and beneath unsettled ground, has emerged in original shapes

Cascadia (Wesleyan Poetry Series) epub download

ISBN13: 978-0819564924

ISBN: 0819564923

Author: Brenda Hillman

Category: Literature and Fiction

Subcategory: Poetry

Language: English

Publisher: Wesleyan; 1st edition (October 22, 2001)

Pages: 88 pages

ePUB size: 1260 kb

FB2 size: 1620 kb

Rating: 4.1

Votes: 671

Other Formats: lrf docx mbr lit

Related to Cascadia (Wesleyan Poetry Series) ePub books

Adrielmeena
"Cascadia" is as close to a perfect 10 on the poetic Richter scale as words can get. Like California, like the range of subjects, voices, stances, emotions, and thoughts here, her technical blitz sprawls over (falls in, widens, tightens, presses, fractures) multiple fault lines: typographic, lyric, narrative, polysyntactic. "Cascadia" is a choir where Hillman's "personal" voice rarely solos (as she writes in the title poem: "People think poets make poems / Poems make poems lying down"); mostly, it seems like the language, the psychic and material landscape, has upped and seized control in order to abolish it, get beyond to more interesting and urgent spaces. Every next poem has just shifted tonally and formally in radical ways. Reading here is like mountain climbing: it rarely gets easier, and the further you go, the less you can breathe, but the vista grows in blissful proportion. There are some tremendously difficult poems here, but they convey no coyness, posturing, pretension, self-regard, or anything but a metamorphic need to be as they are. At times Hillman has succeeded in reaching an egoless (or less-ego) based writing that doesn't leave the reader groping for purchase.

There are so many gorgeous complexities to this work that only whole volumes of prose could adequately explain. Lest that make it sound utterly impenetrable, be assured that no matter who you are, there is at least one poem here that you will love, and many parts of many others that will shock and salve you. Plurality is a guardian angel here, as is change-merge-flux. Echoes are ingrained everywhere of poetic voices as antipodal as Gary Snyder (in "Sediments of Santa Monica": "After the twentieth century these cliffs / Looked like ribbons on braids or dreads... We're still growing up but the stitches hurt Let us be / True to one another for the world / Easy on the myths now / Make it up Sleep well") and John Ashbery (in "Haste Makes Channing": "His cellphone was ringing into the mocha; / a general brightness-; (of xylocaine, or / in Donne's "The Relic," / the bright hair-) / Several trends inside the main idea."), Gertrude Stein (in "Shared Custody": "When a child is dropped off in front of the other parent's house she creates a / history of space and yellow hurrying in the unopposed direction as we / learn to read by hurrying meaning.... As x falls by prearrangement with the experimenters, yellow is unopposed. The / child, leaving the car, drops an alphabet on the path. y. e. l. Shaving of / yellow, central plaid, black from a fraction if she has been brave about / including the math.") and Wallace Stevens (in "Songless Era": "A fine ash obscured the sun. / Leaves grew large as rooms. / Stamped recreants strolled near the pond of wands.").

Like Cascadia, the prehistoric landmass that once bordered what was the sea of California, this book has slipped under in order to let something new become: under poetic convention, under the guile of the one-I'd lyric speaker that has dominated American verse (in the land of the blind...), under grammatical rigidity, under the gilding of our economy and into the taints and ravages of its origins as well as its ongoing, ever displaced and disappeared violence. "Cascadia" is a challenging, rewarding, vital, and powerful fusion of the ecological, the feminist, the linguistic, the theological, the historical, the personal, the geological, and the self-consciously poetic. It will take a great deal of time (of the most pleasurable kind) to fully explore its rich ranges.
Adrielmeena
"Cascadia" is as close to a perfect 10 on the poetic Richter scale as words can get. Like California, like the range of subjects, voices, stances, emotions, and thoughts here, her technical blitz sprawls over (falls in, widens, tightens, presses, fractures) multiple fault lines: typographic, lyric, narrative, polysyntactic. "Cascadia" is a choir where Hillman's "personal" voice rarely solos (as she writes in the title poem: "People think poets make poems / Poems make poems lying down"); mostly, it seems like the language, the psychic and material landscape, has upped and seized control in order to abolish it, get beyond to more interesting and urgent spaces. Every next poem has just shifted tonally and formally in radical ways. Reading here is like mountain climbing: it rarely gets easier, and the further you go, the less you can breathe, but the vista grows in blissful proportion. There are some tremendously difficult poems here, but they convey no coyness, posturing, pretension, self-regard, or anything but a metamorphic need to be as they are. At times Hillman has succeeded in reaching an egoless (or less-ego) based writing that doesn't leave the reader groping for purchase.

There are so many gorgeous complexities to this work that only whole volumes of prose could adequately explain. Lest that make it sound utterly impenetrable, be assured that no matter who you are, there is at least one poem here that you will love, and many parts of many others that will shock and salve you. Plurality is a guardian angel here, as is change-merge-flux. Echoes are ingrained everywhere of poetic voices as antipodal as Gary Snyder (in "Sediments of Santa Monica": "After the twentieth century these cliffs / Looked like ribbons on braids or dreads... We're still growing up but the stitches hurt Let us be / True to one another for the world / Easy on the myths now / Make it up Sleep well") and John Ashbery (in "Haste Makes Channing": "His cellphone was ringing into the mocha; / a general brightness-; (of xylocaine, or / in Donne's "The Relic," / the bright hair-) / Several trends inside the main idea."), Gertrude Stein (in "Shared Custody": "When a child is dropped off in front of the other parent's house she creates a / history of space and yellow hurrying in the unopposed direction as we / learn to read by hurrying meaning.... As x falls by prearrangement with the experimenters, yellow is unopposed. The / child, leaving the car, drops an alphabet on the path. y. e. l. Shaving of / yellow, central plaid, black from a fraction if she has been brave about / including the math.") and Wallace Stevens (in "Songless Era": "A fine ash obscured the sun. / Leaves grew large as rooms. / Stamped recreants strolled near the pond of wands.").

Like Cascadia, the prehistoric landmass that once bordered what was the sea of California, this book has slipped under in order to let something new become: under poetic convention, under the guile of the one-I'd lyric speaker that has dominated American verse (in the land of the blind...), under grammatical rigidity, under the gilding of our economy and into the taints and ravages of its origins as well as its ongoing, ever displaced and disappeared violence. "Cascadia" is a challenging, rewarding, vital, and powerful fusion of the ecological, the feminist, the linguistic, the theological, the historical, the personal, the geological, and the self-consciously poetic. It will take a great deal of time (of the most pleasurable kind) to fully explore its rich ranges.
Bladecliff
Margins are not, in this book, marginal, but have a potent, unsettling agency-"A left margin watches the sea floor approach." The peripheral is central is peripheral, and in some sort of symbiotic séance with geology Hillman slices sentences to reveal their difficult epoxy-"tearing up sentences / to make them clean"..." A merging subverts the categories / Some words shouldn't marry." This book is stretched like a canvas across this difficult (though ultimately liberating) truth-the only terra firma is found at fault lines, where the earth, like our lives/minds/worlds is unresolved, shifting-"experience has been sent up, at an angle." In places, the poems here are literally turned on their sides, creating something like the musical score of topography, the difficult brail of sight ("Sight stops other categories"). Hillman layers the continuous and the intermittent until causality is predominantly a question, complicated, until meaning is not a factory or strategy ("Creation doesn't fail though / the meaning sea dies."), but a generative opening, "a shade not resolved in the mind / because it is the mind."

Here, meaning escapes the cult of the individual-(enter: The "we"-)-the ploy of the cohesive subject / narrative / scene-for "This need to be unique / has mostly made us miserable." Yes, this book will cure you of your craving for control, for anything as dehumanizing as remote controls, pull the freak in you out on the street for a tete a tete talk, a walk through the flickering corridors, the disintegrating corridors, the doors that fall off as you open them. Hillman destabilizes the page by putting words like specimen jars in the corners ("unattached" to the poem), by invoking logograms, by post-performance script dribbling down the page, by the ghost phrases that sit in the bucket seats of the left margin (for ex: hydrangea pre-Naugahyde teabag Four Points Fresno song not anti-song I laughed or Formica kitchenette soap little soap), whisper through the bone china of the poem. "Of course there was no mother / lode; of course it was unlikely." These poems are haunted by evocative figures that you will not soon forget, that flicker like a blip on the screen, like a mistake. These poems recognize how "We wanted / the extraordinary stranger in our veins," a boy with mirrors in his spine (useless in their integration; scaffolding no tool) drifting, "the doomed forms, singing, `Toy sold separately'."
Bladecliff
Margins are not, in this book, marginal, but have a potent, unsettling agency-"A left margin watches the sea floor approach." The peripheral is central is peripheral, and in some sort of symbiotic séance with geology Hillman slices sentences to reveal their difficult epoxy-"tearing up sentences / to make them clean"..." A merging subverts the categories / Some words shouldn't marry." This book is stretched like a canvas across this difficult (though ultimately liberating) truth-the only terra firma is found at fault lines, where the earth, like our lives/minds/worlds is unresolved, shifting-"experience has been sent up, at an angle." In places, the poems here are literally turned on their sides, creating something like the musical score of topography, the difficult brail of sight ("Sight stops other categories"). Hillman layers the continuous and the intermittent until causality is predominantly a question, complicated, until meaning is not a factory or strategy ("Creation doesn't fail though / the meaning sea dies."), but a generative opening, "a shade not resolved in the mind / because it is the mind."

Here, meaning escapes the cult of the individual-(enter: The "we"-)-the ploy of the cohesive subject / narrative / scene-for "This need to be unique / has mostly made us miserable." Yes, this book will cure you of your craving for control, for anything as dehumanizing as remote controls, pull the freak in you out on the street for a tete a tete talk, a walk through the flickering corridors, the disintegrating corridors, the doors that fall off as you open them. Hillman destabilizes the page by putting words like specimen jars in the corners ("unattached" to the poem), by invoking logograms, by post-performance script dribbling down the page, by the ghost phrases that sit in the bucket seats of the left margin (for ex: hydrangea pre-Naugahyde teabag Four Points Fresno song not anti-song I laughed or Formica kitchenette soap little soap), whisper through the bone china of the poem. "Of course there was no mother / lode; of course it was unlikely." These poems are haunted by evocative figures that you will not soon forget, that flicker like a blip on the screen, like a mistake. These poems recognize how "We wanted / the extraordinary stranger in our veins," a boy with mirrors in his spine (useless in their integration; scaffolding no tool) drifting, "the doomed forms, singing, `Toy sold separately'."