The After Party

Zusatztext 49907566 Informationen zum Autor Jana Prikryl Klappentext "A truly moving book." -John Ashbery Jana Prikryl's The After Party journeys across borders and eras! from cold war Central Europe to present-day New York City! from ancient Rome to New World suburbs! constantly testing the lingua francas we negotiate to know ourselves. These poems disclose the tensions in our inherited identities and showcase Prikryl's ambitious experimentation with style. "Thirty Thousand Islands!" the second half of the collection! presents some forty linked poems that incorporate numerous voices. Rooted in one place that fragments into many places-the remote shores of Lake Huron in Canada! a region with no natural resources aside from its beauty-these poems are an elegy that speaks beyond grief. Penetrating! vital! and visionary! The After Party marks the arrival of an extraordinary new talent. Ontario Gothic 1.  The dwarf maple caught my attention in an ominous way, its purple, its deep purple leaves shredded gloves that gesture “Don’t worry, don’t worry,”  among floating albino basketballs of hydrangea among other things the people landscaped like fake lashes round the top of the eye  that then all summer takes in clouds and anything else passing over, including one has to assume the neutral look on a passenger’s face glancing down from a window seat.   2. Halfway there he squeezed between the shoulders of the seats to join his wife and me in back. I need hardly tell you what a stretch it was, wedging my arm between the driver’s seat and door  to steer with the tips of my fingers, sidewalks in those parts just wide enough for a car.  Why he wanted me to take the wheel  I was too busy not getting us killed to unravel; there was the traffic, a thing coming at us with its mouth wide open, and in back the two of them whispered in their corner, taking up very little space, less than was right, and then less and less, gasping at the joke he’d set in motion. Argus, or Fear of Flying A seagull at home in this valley steps into air above the river. I’d like to follow it holding the wind to account while flinging itself out into it. Remove in reading and being the music when you listen-- not that you moved back but forward into remove--saw you off a wall patched with lichen, consortium of air and electric currents it’d be difficult to itemize  expressing you across the river. It deepens like a mind accruing images. I keep the beat, the tune a repetition, indifferent its source or whether rock and roll or country, junkier the more immense, as with all the airborne arts, and you keep your distance, convexity,  of feeling, and relations of the third person vis-à-vis a situation. It’s crucial to no more than misplace claims on what might go down with the pilot’s resourcefulness--it cannot look too casual--faculties both stirring up and yielding to motion bestowing lift. The statues of Hermes littering Europe with little fins at head and feet don’t conjure the fact articulated through my limbs when I read about Zeus flying him in on winged sandals to murder the diligent freakish strangely beautiful giant  tasked by the jealous wife with guarding the innocent mistress--you see there’s always demand for aviation--in which the god’s center of gravity over his lofting feet emerges as something palpable,  autonomous disc near the pelvis  of an ally that’s never not mobile.   Pillow  How solitary  and resolute you look in the morning. A stoic in your cotton sleeve.

Product details

• Authors: Jana Prikryl
• Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
• Languages: English
• Product format: Paperback / Softback
• Released: 30.06.2016
• EAN: 9781101906231
• ISBN: 978-1-101-90623-1
• No. of pages: 112
• Dimensions: 140 mm x 230 mm x 15 mm
• Subject: Fiction > Poetry, drama