"Young has always stood out for his sharp humor, boundless poetic energy, and sheer readability. If adventurous poetry can sometimes feel like a tenuous tightrope walk, Young's poems feel more like zip lines." The Boston Globe
"This book reads like a long, breathless thank-you for life's seemingly random jumble of beauty, strangeness, tenderness, and joy." Los Angeles Times
Fall Higher is a major collection by one of America's most inventive and entertaining writers. In this paperback release, Dean Young's work contends with the challenges of love, wryly cataloging mistakes, deterioration, and broken vows. Young's humor is as sharp as ever, and coupled with a vulnerability that renders Fall Higher his most intimate collection to date.
"The True Apology Takes Years"
The true apology takes years.
Terrible dry eyes!
The tree rings grow closer and closer together
but the nail is swallowed.
Great heaps of rubble are moved up and down the shore.
Finally a dance is performed to complete the forgiveness,
stamping out small fires,
the whole palladium decorated with thistles
like the last twenty pages of a Victorian novel.
Now that your hunger is gone you're welcome to the banquet . . .
Dean Young has published twelve books of poetry, including finalists for the Pulitzer Prize and Griffin Award. He has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the NEA, as well as an Academy Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He teaches at the University of Texas and lives in Austin, Texas.
|Publisher:||Copper Canyon Press|
|Product dimensions:||6.10(w) x 9.10(h) x 0.80(d)|
About the Author
Dean Young: Dean Young has published eleven books of poetry, including finalists for the Pulitzer Prize and Griffin Award. He has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the NEA, as well as an Academy Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He is the William Livingston Chair of Poetry at the University of Texas.
Table of Contents
Red Glove Thrown in Rosebush 7
This Evening from Far Away 8
Scarecrow on Fire 9
Rock Garden 12
Selected Recent and New Errors 16
Fucked-Up Ode 19
The Usual Decision-Making Process 20
Irrevocable Ode 21
Sleeping Aid 23
Commencement Address 25
Omen Ode 27
These End-Stopped Affairs 31
The Past 42
Infinitive Ode 46
Easy as Falling Down Stairs 48
Music Was My Education 54
Full-Time at the Cyclotron 55
Articles of Faith 56
The True Apology Takes Years 58
The Fox 60
After My Own Heart 61
Scenes from the Crystal World 63
Optimistic Poem 64
Late Valentine 66
Happy Zero-th Birthday, Gideon 67
Changing Genres 75
Is This Why Love Almost Rhymes with Dumb? 76
Three Weeks from Two Days Ago 78
Alternating Current 80
Wolf Lying in Snow 81
Another Strange Rose for the Afterlife 83
Bay Arena 84
Instant Recognition between Strangers 86
My Current Favorite Disease 87
My Brief Careers 89
Demon Cycle 91
Scarecrow on Fire 96
Man Overboard 97
Delphiniums in a Window Box 100
Winged Purposes 101
Teetering Lullaby 103
About the Author 105
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Poetry paints nothing but it splashescolor, flushed, swooning, echolatingand often associated with flightas in Keats's viewless wings of Poesy,a weird statement. The wings can't see?Are invisible like Wonder Woman's plane?Poetry is a good provider of the strange.(From the poem Non-Apologia)In his Fall Higher collection of poems Dean Young once again is a good provider of the strange. He's often referred to as "one of our most inventive poets", and that's what I like best about him - his ability to make us look at the world with a fresh eye, and often laugh at it, through his sometimes stream of consciousness connections and laser-true commentary. In this one he seems more bilious than in previous collections; those feeling chirpily sanguine (phrase cribbed from Richard) may find themselves more morose and disgruntled after reading this one.In this poem, titled Undertow, he has the sea thinking about itself with a "sudden out-loud laughter snort":Oh, what thehell, I probably drove myself crazythinks the sea, kissing all those strangers,forgiving them no matter what, liarsin confession, vomiters of plasticsand fossil fuels but what a strickenelixir I've become even to my becalmed depths,while through its head swim a millionfishes seemingly made of lighteating each other.He knows he can be hard to follow. At one point he says, "Try to stay with me, okay?" (Wolf Lying in Snow). And he can be silly. "I like napkins folded into swans/ because I like wiping my mouth on swans." (Commencement Address). He can be romantic:because of you I'm talking to crickets, clouds,confiding in a cat. Everyone saysCome to your senses, and I do, of you.Every touch electric, every taste you,every smell, even burning sugar, everycry and laugh. Toothpicked samplesat the farmer's market, every melon,plum, I come undone, undone.(Delphiniums in a Window Box).And for me he can be profound. After wondering over our fallacies in some detail, he concludes:We have absolutely no proofgod isn't an insectrubbing her hind legs together to sing.Or boring into us like a yellow jacketinto a fallen, overripe pear.Or an assassin bug squatting over us,shoving a proboscis right throughour breastplate then sipping.How wonderful our poisons don't kill her.(Selected Recent and New Errors). Yikes! That makes it hard to be chirpily sanguine, but it sure snaps the eyes open.