A5, 36 pages, €5, December 2011
My new chapbook IMAGINARYLOVEPOEMS comes out tomorrow with Corrupt Press. It has a fish hook on the cover & dedications to Marianne Morris & Amy De’Ath within. Blurbs by Ian Patterson & Jonty Tiplady on back. Also features some poems. Buy it from the CP website if you want to I guess.
The queen of the Greenwich world time writes, with the cut of a grace that can be heard all over the hill, to the end to impossibly sexy growth. Nobody, especially ‘here among men’, will get round or past it. Quietness is a vector of real courage they don’t yet think, a male Opheliac obliterates the nunnery. The only realistic thing right now, not scared to suppose supposed green, is this. This weakness stronger than any ithyphallos, a pop-up militia in the dungeon sky, and no simple war left in it. This book. This book by Emily makes me think about the beautiful things we can still do. Care, and what ‘future growth’ would really be. Parisian pariciding. Richness of spirit for ‘half perfectly again’. Not just hard questions. It’s what ‘happens when my standing reserve: you?’ flies too close: ‘There is still time’. It’s that courage is not what you think.
These are poems that love their poetic history and sweep you off your page. They contain wings reigning over sleepy echoes, temporary motion, ornamental self, all but true. Imaginary love in poem gardens toads. Whatever happens after all stays here and jiggles about for your reading pleasure.
For all of Feb, Bad Press is sending all U.S. dollahz proceeds from sales of Amy De’Ath’s CARIBOU to Occupy Oakland. “Please do not waste this amazing opportunity to pay for poetry whilst fomenting revolutionary imagining.”
Bad Press (so liberated from the imperatives of purposive activity it’s unreal)
IS PLEASED TO ANNOUCE * * n e w ! * *
CARIBOU, by AMY DE’ATH
A cerebrally serpentine collection of love poems re-working the lyric into a silken girder that will dizzy you with echoes of itself ALL AFTERNOON: in short, YES.
Caribou whizzes its readers from the ‘Fast Eddy’ of East London to the ‘Vertigo Valley’ of West Canada. “Now I am conducive to everything” writes Amy De’Ath and she means it, through her wonderfully sassy lyric ‘I’ that negotiates the rapids and gulps at the cliff edge with never a flicker of introspective self-importance. These poems are fleet-footed and fancy-free. They love to dance but they know the depths they skip across, the brow that beetles, the heart that almost disintegrates. So they are an example to us. — John Wilkinson
Accelerates from fast break scatter into pocketa pocketa: a love careen. “This thing-ting, thinking! … this out-of-sync wonkybeat,” this poetry knows its game too well not to bash the balls off the table. Go on, De’Ath, “boom brighter than the moon.” – Cathy Wagner
£5 / $9: please hit the DONATE button on the website and adjust your donation according to your whereabouts (pounds for UK/Europe, dollahz for everywhere else), or send payment directly to email@example.com