Jorie Graham

I found this book on a remainder table, opened it at random, and literally got chills reading that first page. This is the book that brought me back to reading poetry, which I'd probably stopped 15 years earlier.

I read it again recently, and its still just a wonderful collection. Graham manages to combine thoughts on important philosophical subjects with a deeply personal view and an astounding command of the language.

Here's how one untitled poem starts:

In the city that apparently never show more was,
where the hero dies and dies to no avail,
where one is not oneself it suddenly appears
(and you, who are you and are you there?)
I found myself at the window at last,
the room inside dark, it being late,
the ________ outside dark, it being night.
Found myself leaning against the pane, the body beneath
me naked,
and _lateness_ not different from _shadow_ around me,
and nothing true, nothing distracted into shape around me.

Outside, flashing lights, deep gloom.

A moonless enterprise consisting of towers not there to
the naked eye. show less

Brilliant, at times dark, always inventive (both in terms of form and content), Graham is a poet to read slowly, pensively, mindfully. "She will finish her business and let go of the stories. The stories are an/ impediment. You must be in them now, you tell me, but they are all string and/ knot, they catch you up--spilled blood--the love--the car is/ pushed--the time is right--your symbol, your scene, your out-/ come--how I wish I could pull you free, you say, there is above just right show more there/ above..." (Brian) show less

A fortunate find, The Errancy cascades, line over line, and I found such joy in the torrent of images. Reading Graham is like listening to the sounds of a kaleidoscope. Disconcerting, liberating, but most of all instructive in the wonder of living.

Graham's collection didn't intimidate me the same way as her other work. Perhaps it was the focus on ontology and unraveling of faith, self, and the questions of desperate doubt in the most quiet moments. There's still the precision and verbosity I'd expect from her work but it is more focused, inward and the empty spaces of unknowing, rather than spiraling outward.