- 80 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
About this book
The 2013 National Poetry Series selection, chosen by poet and novelist Charlie Smith.
Established in 1978 by legendary editor Dan Halpern, the National Poetry Series has discovered many new and emerging voices and has been instrumental in launching the careers of poets and writers such as Billy Collins, Mark Doty, Denis Johnson, Cole Swensen, Thylias Moss, Mark Levine, and Dionisio D. Martinez.
Trespass, the winner of the National Poetry Series open competition, showcases a powerful poetic talent who explores the darker side of domestic life with unique and startling vision.
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Please note we cannot support devices running on iOS 13 and Android 7 or earlier. Learn more about using the app.
Yes, you can access Trespass by Thomas Dooley in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & Literary Essays. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
INGALLS AVENUE
the house lit of blue television of snow
the house where my father got tall
house of sturdy pipes house a home
for his sisters house of winter
boots and calico and wooden
spoons house of my grandfather
his girls grandkids house of quiet
sheer things of vinyl shingles
the padding around the house
the house of bins of old clothes and moon
light open windows of gulping
curtains the house of dusty aster
the house of women once girls a house
of kisses this is a house of rooms
a house of small closets and
smaller closets a closet for lemon
candy tucked back a closet
of cedar panels of tongue
and groove of bulbs a closet for small
things for tall things a closet for slumped
tall things and small things this
is a closet for tall and small things
EASTERN RED CEDARS
I walk by your fragrant bodies
thinned by winter, your young ones
are burlapped in nurseries, some are planked,
chipped-up
seamed for chests & trunks:
inside a cedar closet, my father at sixteen
one bulb setting
your rose panels aflame, his lit face
the white heart, his narrow body, wick,
his niece, four years old
his head knocks the light his hand
steadies the wild
string
the light
eclipsed, then bright
CEDAR CLOSET, 1955
He is sixteen and takes her
inside, jars
the unquiet hinge
she waits
forty years to name
him, Aunt Peggy says
you might as well be dead.
And now
it’s spring. My father’s hair
thins, dull moth-gray, the last
clouds sink like sacks, the trees
are wet, sweat
on a body, damp wool.
MY FATHER AS A BOY
his arm is the smallest to snake
the toilet’s trapway, ...
Table of contents
- Dedication
- Contents
- Cherry Tree
- Part One
- Part Two
- Part Three
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Credits
- Copyright
- About the Publisher