The Master Lettersby Lucie Brock-Broido
The title of this richly textured book derives from two of the three mysterious letters left by Emily Dickinson--the ones addressed to "Dear Master." Lucie Brock-Boido has imagined a series of letters echoing devices found in Dickinson's own work. "We feel we are in the presence of something entirely new, " says Bonnie Costello in The Boston Review. "Not even Brock-Broido's wonderful first book, A Hunger, prepares us for this bold encounter."
- Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
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- 6.16(w) x 9.23(h) x 0.25(d)
Read an Excerpt
Am lean against.
Am the heavy hour
Hand at urge,
At the verge of one. Am the ice comb of the tonsured
Hair, am the second
Hand, halted, the velvet opera glove. Am slant. Am fen, the injure
Wind at withins,
Stranger where the storm forms a face if the body stands enough
In a weather this
Cripple & this rough. Am shunt. Was moon-shaped helmet left
In bog, was condition
Of a spirit shorn, childlike & herd. Was Andalusian, ambsace,
Bird. Am kept.
Was keeper of the badly marred, was furious done god, was
Patient, was bad
Luck, was nurse. Ninety badly wounded men lay baying
In the reddened reedy
Hay of Saxony, was surgeon to their flinch & hoop, was hospice
To their torso hall,
Was numinous creature to their dying
Off. Am numb.
Was shoulder & queer luck. Am among.
Was--why--or the mutton & moss. Was the rented room.
Was chamber & ambage
& tender & burn. Am esurient, was the hungry form.
Was the bleating thing.
Meet the Author
Lucie Brock-Broido is the author of an earlier book of poems, A Hunger (1988). From 1988 to 1993 she was a Briggs-Copeland poet at Harvard University. She has taught also at the Bennington Writing Seminars and at Priceton University, and is now director of poetry in the Writing Division in the School of the Arts at Columbia University. She lives in New York City and in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
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Why do some poets continue to get published when they take shortcuts? Shortcuts in the form of abstraction. There is so much beauty in the world, where didn't she go wrong?