Published: Wednesday, 28 February 2018 23:22
Written by Super User
When they asked him why he failed
to come in with the others,
but stayed out all that moonless
night groping his way along
the hollow’s rocky slopes, back
and forth across its snaky
floor while his flashlight faded,
he would only say the child,
the lonely lost child, making
believe he meant the straw-haired
toddler he finally found
curled with her collie asleep
at the base of an oak, and
not the bloodied, belt-bruised boy
he still is, who haunted the
same hollow and never told.
A wilderness . . . is hereby recognized
as an area where the earth and its
community of life are untrammeled
by man, where man himself
is a visitor who does not remain.
The Wilderness Act of 1964
They wed a priest’s dream to their own and so
purchased parcels of Missouri’s wild land
along the Eleven Point because they
could afford no better. Now we burnish
tales of their vanishing into legend,
gaze upon the great second growth forest
that remains, and shiver for newcomers
who dare enter, nodding to each other
when they lose their way and must be rescued
by locals on mountain ponies. We fail
to remember how our lank ancestors
cleared the first forest in a violence
of axes that echoed the war years when
bushwhackers lived to loot and burn, their paths
swaths of fire that sent entire towns into
exile, Irish pioneers suddenly
remade into refugees fleeing charred
homesteads and war-wild hearts of their neighbors.
Cicero Jack Ponders Relics of the Osage
I’ve hunted arrowheads deep
in Ozark woods, rummaged lengths
of dry creek beds to swell my
cache of hand-chipped stone, layer
the bottom drawer of the
parlor desk with a litter
of flaked flint and chert. But now,
as a killing drought lowers
water levels, turns the rich
soils of lakes and streams, I read
of scoundrels digging bones, thieves
harvesting relics of the
long dead Osage, and I must
count myself kin to both tribes.
I have plundered precious things,
and beyond my final breath
I and mine will be plundered,
soil of my progeny turned
like the loam beneath the lake.
Published: Tuesday, 20 February 2018 00:38
Written by Super User
Here's what the Midwest Review of Books has to say about Lisa Brognano's new book, In the Interest of Faye:
In the Interest of Faye
Golden Antelope Press
9781936135486, $17.95, PB, 257pp, www.amazon.com
Synopsis: When the elderly Margaret DuPont agrees to sell the building which houses Hirsch Gallery, its young director Faye Brooks determines to save the gallery. She tries showing off the art; she tries flirting with the buyer, a coffee mogul named Bobby Sterling; she tries renting the place from him, though raising Sterling's exorbitant rent presents further challenges.
By themselves, Faye's efforts would not succeed, but over her five years as Hirsch director she has developed loyal supporters who want her and her gallery to succeed. And then, there's her father, a successful architect whose protective streak at times seems overwhelming. Those who want to protect Faye's interests include her clever friend and neighbor Norman; his precocious niece Lily; her favorite cab driver; a homeless artist turned grant writer; a punk-rocking intern named Zoe; and Anouk, the Dutch woman whom Faye had earlier persuaded to allow several Van Gogh artifacts to come from Amsterdam to Albany.
What exactly are Faye's best interests? How does a thoughtful and artistic young woman balance the needs of a gallery and its community against her own need for independence and growth?
Critique: A skillfully crafted novel providing the reader with a consistently entertaining and truly memorable literary experience, "In the Interest of Faye" showcases author Lisa Brognano's genuine flair for originality and narrative driven storytelling. "In the Interest of Faye" is an extraordinary and highly recommended addition to personal reading lists, as well as community and academic library Contemporary Literary Fiction collections.
It's at the MRB's Small Press Watch site--the ninth book on the Fiction Shelf.