000			01563nam a2200217 a 4500
001			032879
005			20231009192609.0
008			120112s2011 nyu 000 p eng
010			_a2010033097
020			_a9780374141578
050	0	0	_aPS3566.H476 _bD68 2011
082	0	0	_a811.54 PHI
100	1		_aPhillips, Carl _d, 1959-
245	1	0	_aDouble shadow _c/ Carl Phillips
250			_a1st ed
260			_aNew York _b: Farrar, Straus and Giroux _c, c2011.
300			_a58 p. _c; 22 cm.
520			_a"There's an art/ to everything. Even/ turning away. How/ eventually even hunger/ can become a space/ to live in." Phillips's latest volume (after 2009's Speak Low) examines the double shadows (the shadow under/behind the shadow) that existence casts on human lives. His poems seem to live inside these shadows, casting their own kinds of light through layers of darkness. His lyrical lines meander, sometimes for stanzas, and they aren't always clear or understandable until they've gone by. Yet the reader is left with silhouettes of images that disturb and startle, like the field that "divides prayer from/ absolute defeat," like "snow caught/ flying over open water from a fast-moving train," like the deadly but elegant hawk's flight. Motion and stillness, wickedness and joy, love and a way of loving, gratitude and regret: doubling haunts this volume. "What if, between this one and the one/ we hoped for, there is a third life, taking its own/ slow dreamlike hold, even now-blooming, in spite of us?"
650		4	_aPoetry, American
942			_cMO
999			_c243778 _d243778