Poetry that I felt I should like, but which I just couldn't get into. Started & stopped this book several times. Finally plowed my way through to the end, but that's not saying much, since I don't think I took away anything from the experience. Which is not to say that King's poetry isn't good; it's just to say that it wasn't for me this time around. That said, I did like bits and pieces here and there. I just couldn't make the whole of it cohere for me.
A gleaning of lines that caught my attention:
"so many soldiers on the brink of their lives returning"
"we rankle in the dunes and subject our thoughts/ to religion's aftermath"
"This immersion has made me a model/ for your captivity digest"
"Such went the days of wizened mass surprise"
"In fact, the sky has stopped"
"We shook hands in the language we meant/ to speak"
"Now go,/ revel in the lips of your country"
"they took the wrong ghost home"
"We stand as weeds in motion"
"Between blows, we'll mate."
"We do, the big beautiful bees of us, pulling the veins in our wings,/ smoking light through antennae ends we're sure/ could reach another form of life when it comes/ down to us."
"We seed through the hush, rising from earth,/ orchestras through flame."
"We go/ to the flames of what stirs/ the breath from its regular/ motion"
"I'm carrying a baby/ wren beneath my tongue/ in the hollow of my head/ back to you, you who/ are the heart of the awl/ and the climb on which/ I mount my last breath" ( )