{"product_id":"whereso","title":"Whereso","description":"\u003cp\u003eFollowing the transcendent, abstractionist poems of \u003cem\u003eNomina\u003c\/em\u003e, this collection returns to tangible experiences of the body—its range of expressivity and physical movement in space. Where is the body in travel? What space does it occupy in dreams and memory? With rich perplexity, \u003cem\u003eWhereso\u003c\/em\u003e responds to dance, performance, and position in time—translating flight of the body into language and line.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch4\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“\u003c\/span\u003eWhat I’ve Come to Discuss\u003cspan\u003e”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/h4\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWhat I’ve come to discuss is mostly about shadows\u003cbr\u003eand the airs left behind in caring, discarding,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ethe long inhibitions of whereso and when.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eAlabaster, a dark quire, in its many pages and premises\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ethe maze, from which move\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003etendrilled purples and contusions, magnificent\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003efuchsia receivers of false content,\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ethe splayed flower, arterial, like the premise of a door\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eis where it leads to or from. Communication\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eof vessel, vial, capsule, hull, a tiniest nil\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003efires the neurons from their swooning still,\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eis not a healing but adaptation to same\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ea quickening in deleting of sensation\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ea prior sizing. Stacked leaves (green shadows)\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eare givens in the columned garden, what work is needed\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eto determine that shape? Some hysteric\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003etrope of repetition, rage for accretion,\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003edazed by its own mute replication,\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003elike the minute lines of a hand. They are \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eits cries (writes Ponge, among others),\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ethe tongue inseparable from its utterance (\u003c\/span\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003elangue\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003e).\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eWe weep to hear it, a language forgot.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eI was saying I keep speaking\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003efrom some chamber sound deleted, which is why\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eI never call or write. In that theatre are my eclipses\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eand moons refracted in pinholes and wheels\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003ewherein revolve astonished birds, and the Queen of Night\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003esleeps a rest restorative and profitable, and \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003eandante allegro, the dead ships never sail.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch4\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePraise for \u003cem\u003eWhereso\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/h4\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“\u003c\/span\u003eKaren Volkman\u003cspan\u003e’\u003c\/span\u003es poems are inscrutable at first. They demand effort, but when examined these poems reveal depths teeming with microscopic life. After her previous two books, \u003cem\u003eSpar\u003c\/em\u003e, a seminal collection of love poems in prose, and \u003cem\u003eNomina\u003c\/em\u003e, a sequence of nonsense sonnets, Volkman has relaxed mostly into free verse in which she can describe \u003cspan\u003e‘\u003c\/span\u003efalse content, \/ the splayed flower, arterial, like the premise of a door,\u003cspan\u003e’\u003c\/span\u003e and other vagaries of the heart. She may be elliptical and strange, but make no mistake, she is a master, able to get inside the mind of a dancer\u003cspan\u003e’\u003c\/span\u003es body . . . and transport the willing reader into the deepest folds of true attention.\u003cspan\u003e”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e—NPR Books\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“\u003c\/span\u003eIn her previous collection, \u003cem\u003eSpar\u003c\/em\u003e, Volkman stripped away the formal conventions of lineated verse (as well as overtly stated subject matter) to explore what a poem could say in prose, using rhythm, sound and tone as her principal tools of meaning-making. In this third collection, a sequence of 50 untitled, rhymed sonnets, she takes her interrogation of the poem as formal machine a step further, using English poetry\u003cspan\u003e’\u003c\/span\u003es most famous form as her guide. Like her prose poems, these sonnets are concerned with love and some notion of a higher, or other, power, or at least with the capacity of language to bridge the gap between addressor and addressee, seeking a nascent book in which the wind has written. Channeling Emily Dickinson, the poems are at once fierce, ravished, perplexed and perplexing . . . gesturing toward sense, never quite making it, yet mysteriously giving and withholding enough to keep the reader in their thrall.\u003cspan\u003e”\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e“\u003c\/span\u003eThere is no question that these are athletic poems; they open their fullest flower to those with a strong vocabulary . . . This abstract web of multiple meanings feels, on first reading, extremely reticent, even rarefied . . . It is extremely fine work, and finely wrought.”\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e—Poetry International\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch6\u003ePublication Date: May 10, 2016\u003cbr\u003eISBN: \u003cstrong\u003e978-1-942683-08-7\u003c\/strong\u003e\n\u003c\/h6\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e© BOA Editions, Ltd. 2016\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400;\"\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"color: #696969;\"\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;\"\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12px;\"\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"BOA Editions, Ltd.","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":8420436293,"sku":"9781942683087","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0982\/0178\/products\/Whereso_FinalFront.jpg?v=1527683786","url":"https:\/\/shop.boaeditions.org\/products\/whereso","provider":"Boa Editions","version":"1.0","type":"link"}