By Sheryl St. Germain
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This scarce antiquarian publication is a variety from Kessinger Publishings Legacy Reprint sequence. as a result of its age, it might comprise imperfections akin to marks, notations, marginalia and improper pages. simply because we think this paintings is culturally very important, we now have made it to be had as a part of our dedication to holding, retaining, and selling the worlds literature.
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Extra resources for How Heavy the Breath of God (Texas Poets Series)
They could not imagine what they would become. They have learned to live in deeper pools, water cold as knives, weedy with dark food, murky amniotic fluid Wise fish, with gills that open like wounds, passing the tragic waters through their bodies, turning grief to oxygen. Page 35 Fisherman To listen with hands and eyes for the deep, unseen mouthing if I could have the faith of the fisherman I would rip out my heart muscle, sink a hook into its joyous pulsing, sing it out on a long line, and wait for the great dark.
Page 4 Street Market, Otavalo The first thing you notice is the air smells different and you are afraid of the smell of street and rain and exhaustion and the large weeping of mountains and the ancient sidewalks with their ancient smells and ancient cracks and pools of water that smell like broken pieces of lives, so you step over the pools afraid to look in them and still there is the smell ever rich ever growing, feather and chicken tied for selling smell of blood and meat, the stripped flesh hung from hooks in the street like tapestries and boiling chicken smell in the stalls and roasting pig and guinea pig and lemons and bananas and limes and the smell of wool, fresh and damp and older than you will ever be, and there is breath and skin and color everywhere.
The piles of shells and heads and legs rise like antediluvian mountains, the dark waste of their song reeks through the ages. Page 51 In the Garden of Eden, Thinking of the Beloved There is nothing here that does not remind me of him, the mountains wordless and rich with everything, the water, so clear you can see deep into it, but not to bottom, and the flowers, the white wild flowers I saw today reminded me of the time driving through New Mexico when we noticed all at once how quiet it was, got out of the car, and he found some flow- ers, picked them and awkwardly gave them to me saying I'm glad you spoke your mind last night.