A collection of power and humor in earthy eroticism, invoking both the fever and hope in wakeful dreams. A bold work of the elegiac past and the visceral present converging in provocative imagery. There is often an undercurrent of longing in Chase's poems--the longing of hunger, of sex, of unfinished business with the dead. Central to the collection is the title poem, a spiraling nightmare that explores the messy and terrifying commingling of religion, death and history's unpardonable sins.
The poetry of Karen Chase is elegant, demanding, visceral, and compelling. Beach Painting: During the painting, a man looks up the dunes,/blue bathing trunks, distinct in shape/not in color from the sea. A woman curls/on a blanket, her legs folded at the knee,/light falling on her rear./A bather has left the painting, walked down the beach,/left his chair.//Others walk off into that same thick sea/with its here and now blues. They proceed/out to far, so it's hard to know/what they ever thought. Out of the frame,/a balding man hugs at the sand./Day closes down and the painting ends./The figures still on the canvas want to go home./Wind picks up on Commercial Street.
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