EBOOK
About
A kinetic new poetry collection that sings our astonishment and our fear at how life makes and unmakes us through every love and every grief.
These poems are at once plangent and wise, fired by exacting observation of the changes that mark the natural world-the diminishing woods, the surging birdsong in spring–as well as each stage of human life. The poet struggles to understand what her experiences mean, even as a sudden turn-a mother's illness, a father's death-sweeps her in an entirely different direction.
Philips writes of "this borrowed ground," our trespass on the earth none of us can own. In every movement of these poems as they flow over rough ground and smooth, there's the thrill of discovery, and the echoing notes of what we can't know, the mystery of changes yet to come.
"This is a book of close and ecstatic attention to life out of doors on North America's Great Central Plain: to raucous abundance, to the incendiary air, to cataract, bee buzz and hummingbird, to silence and snow. It's a book that does not distinguish between elegy and celebration, an intelligence structured by long walks and what one can begin to know only by standing preternaturally still."
"The Time of the Great Singing is a field guide to the bird we are always searching for. The spellingbinding attention of a poet following the hum. Here we are in the presence of a great voice writing in whole notes. Elizabeth Philips is a wizard at grounding the mystery."
A kinetic new poetry collection that sings our astonishment and our fear at how life makes and unmakes us through every love and every grief.
These poems are at once plangent and wise, fired by exacting observation of the changes that mark the natural world-the diminishing woods, the surging birdsong in spring–as well as each stage of human life. The poet struggles to understand what her experiences mean, even as a sudden turn-a mother's illness, a father's death-sweeps her in an entirely different direction.
Philips writes of "this borrowed ground," our trespass on the earth none of us can own. In every movement of these poems as they flow over rough ground and smooth, there's the thrill of discovery, and the echoing notes of what we can't know, the mystery of changes yet to come.
These poems are at once plangent and wise, fired by exacting observation of the changes that mark the natural world-the diminishing woods, the surging birdsong in spring–as well as each stage of human life. The poet struggles to understand what her experiences mean, even as a sudden turn-a mother's illness, a father's death-sweeps her in an entirely different direction.
Philips writes of "this borrowed ground," our trespass on the earth none of us can own. In every movement of these poems as they flow over rough ground and smooth, there's the thrill of discovery, and the echoing notes of what we can't know, the mystery of changes yet to come.
"This is a book of close and ecstatic attention to life out of doors on North America's Great Central Plain: to raucous abundance, to the incendiary air, to cataract, bee buzz and hummingbird, to silence and snow. It's a book that does not distinguish between elegy and celebration, an intelligence structured by long walks and what one can begin to know only by standing preternaturally still."
"The Time of the Great Singing is a field guide to the bird we are always searching for. The spellingbinding attention of a poet following the hum. Here we are in the presence of a great voice writing in whole notes. Elizabeth Philips is a wizard at grounding the mystery."
A kinetic new poetry collection that sings our astonishment and our fear at how life makes and unmakes us through every love and every grief.
These poems are at once plangent and wise, fired by exacting observation of the changes that mark the natural world-the diminishing woods, the surging birdsong in spring–as well as each stage of human life. The poet struggles to understand what her experiences mean, even as a sudden turn-a mother's illness, a father's death-sweeps her in an entirely different direction.
Philips writes of "this borrowed ground," our trespass on the earth none of us can own. In every movement of these poems as they flow over rough ground and smooth, there's the thrill of discovery, and the echoing notes of what we can't know, the mystery of changes yet to come.