Every minute is first : selected late poems of Marie-Claire Bancquart /
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| Author / Creator: | Bancquart, Marie-Claire, author. |
|---|---|
| Imprint: | Minneapolis : Milkweed Editions, 2024. ©2024 |
| Description: | xi, 113 pages ; 22 cm |
| Language: | English |
| Subject: | |
| Format: | Print Book |
| URL for this record: | http://pi.lib.uchicago.edu/1001/cat/bib/13477814 |
Table of Contents:
- Preface
- Other
- In
- On the Brink of Life
- Yes, the Interval
- Earth
- Out of Scale
- Forward
- Falters, Wears Out
- Grass Between the Lips
- Alone
- This Dark Tree
- Red-Hot
- In the woods leaves
- If we speak in fables, it's just
- After having followed the formidable path, I will be
- I hang my life
- What is this face
- What drives you
- Black the water
- The throat awakens full of dirt
- When evening comes
- Cut the round loaf villager
- Hearing
- September, eleven o'clock in the morning, without you
- Replanting the hellebore
- I desire you in our time
- Worried about
- Twenty or thirty centuries ago
- It's sad
- Scent of linden trees
- At day's end things join up
- Under the curses of birds
- -What did you say? Lost empires
- Writing?
- Little breaths, the moments of our lives
- Our presence
- Our lungs breathe
- The decorum of words
- The patient in the recovery room
- The poor stone I'm holding
- Very dark matter
- At that time, to represent an absurdity or strong emotion
- Yes, heavy, the blood
- The mirror retains
- Into my spinal column
- To be traversed
- Tremble
- As for me, I inhabited a large bird
- How many trees in the course of this journey
- That trembling
- I'm endlessly obsessed with one desire
- Briefly
- Each thing according to
- On window panes, curtains, books, camp the invisible
- ...At the border of the inexorable
- No, I will not swallow
- If I could seize a little nothing
- Yes, I sank
- I came back to life. Oh, monorail world, transport me
- Don't descend
- There are bruised words
- Strange, the objects in certain categories
- You know what it means
- Can we
- Inhale the strong odor of the streets
- We don't want
- Against my cheek
- "See you shortly, in the unknown"
- To the heights of incandescence
- When do you want to divorce yourself?
- When I think of you, I transform into tree-lined paths
- I don't believe in heaven
- To approach a word
- Every minute is first, when the garden
- As though
- Return the love of the least things
- For the music of stones
- -And nevertheless I pressed against your face my own
- You've got a run in your peritoneum
- Sitting in the park
- Collect a seed
- We're always holding the end of the world, no matter where
- A very ripe apricot gets smashed
- Pain: explosion, spasms
- What did you do, if not
- I'm writing a letter to I don't know whom
- In my body there's
- Holes in the bark
- Every morning I form
- Don't wake me sleeper
- Small noise, rain
- Following the edge of an island
- ... But so far off, so unrealized, the peace I'm seeking!
- New world?
- End-of-life accompanist
- It's possible/impossible
- With your chagrin, you meant to stay alone
- It's as if there were an earth above
- ... But what if it were absurd, our turmoil?
- Sick
- Then a scene imposes itself upon you, impossibly banal: a man
- She doesn't have a name
- How I searched for you, life
- Why this feeling of exile
- A very large white pigeon
- These are my "Sorrows" I'm writing
- So soft, the gray of the sky sometimes occupied by white
- Nevertheless love
- As if the earth
- In a Httie while, I will no longer be, you will no longer be
- Notes