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Wallace Stevens, in his poem “A Postcard from the Volcano,” writes, “left what we felt / at what we saw.” Patricia Clark’s stunning fourth poetry collection, Sunday Rising, is full of such moments, carefully wrought and mined for their resonance. Haunting human forms rise from the underworld, seeking to communicate, longing for connection. In language as resounding and evocative as the subjects it describes, Sunday Rising questions the past, human relationships, the meaning of loss, and the author’s own heritage. With landscapes as familiar as Michigan and as distant as the shores of Western Europe, these poems bring to light the cracks and fissures in our world, amid lyric exhalations rising like clouds above the birds, trees, and coastlines, language capturing the poet’s spiritual longing as well as moments of passion and sorrow. From the first poem to the last, an intimate relationship with the physical world emerges. Its teachings, consolations, utterances, and echoes comprise a sense of discovery. The ethereal and often spiritual practice of seeing and taking note is celebrated, whether this process yields gemstones or ore, or words wrought into the music and imagery of poetry.
Patricia Clark is Poet-in-Residence and Professor in the Department of Writing at Grand Valley State University.
Contents I. Risen from the Underworld Autumn on the Seine, Argenteuil Oscine Tomorrow Marks Six Years Aeromancy Winter Nests Energy Economics Plane of Last Scattering Ravine Goddess, August Quebrada Anti-Love Poem My Mother’s Feline Companion Wreath for the Red Admiral After Franz Marc’s The Red Deer (1912) Elegy for Wilma II. Until It Speaks Rocks and Minerals Tent Caterpillars Near Paradise, Michigan: Crushed Air Like a Sea Near Paradise, Michigan: Brown Cabin, Roof with a Green Stripe Rockweed, Knotted Wrack, Dead Man’s Fingers Viewshed Poem Ending with a Line from Tranströmer Late Letter to Hugo Helleborus Orientalis Wood Not Yet Out Kingston Plains By Clear and Clear: Riverside, Midday After Hiroshige Heron, in Sunlight Burial Underwear III. Olentangy Elegy IV. Sunday Rising Cento Ghosts That Need Consoling Missing Depressed by a Gray Mood on Tuesday, I Step Up and See a Sparrow If Riptides Were a Gateway Zodiacal Light: A Dialogue Near the North Sea It Was Raining in Middelburg Botanical Beliefs Tell Me Again Why Western State Hospital for the Criminally Insane Should Not Frighten Me Psalm to Sing on a Frozen Morning Where Pilgrims Pass River Villanelle Across Barbed Wire Math, Architecture Stowaway in the Arugula Exile Song Acknowledgments Notes
Ravined and swooping, observant and questioning, musical and capacious, knowledgeable, playful, and precise, Clark's poems have the texture--and range--of life.--Jane Hirshfield, author of Come, Thief