In this stunning collection, Franz Wright chronicles the journey
back from a place of isolation and wordlessness. After a period
when it seemed certain he would never write poetry again, he speaks
with bracing clarity about the twilit world that lies between
madness and sanity, addiction and recovery. Wright negotiates the
precarious transition from illness to health in a state of
skeptical rapture, discovering along the way the exhilaration of
love--both divine and human--and finding that even the most
battered consciousness can be good company.
Whether he is writing about his regret for the abortion of a child,
describing the mechanics of slander ("I can just hear them on the
telephone and keening all their kissy little knives"), or composing
an ironic ode to himself ("To a Blossoming Nut Case"), Wright's
poems are exquisitely precise. Charles Simic has characterized him
as a poetic miniaturist, whose "secret ambition is to write an epic
on the inside of a matchbook cover." Time and again, Wright turns
on a dime in a few brief lines, exposing the dark comedy and
poignancy of his heightened perception.
Here is one of the poems from the collection:
Description of Her Eyes
and my mind goes
"everyone can kiss my ass now--
then it's changed, Eyes so sad, and infinitely kind.
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