{"product_id":"black-wings-blind-angels-isbn-9780679767312","title":"Black Wings \u0026 Blind Angels","description":"With fierce candor and an unflinching eye, the highly praised author of \u003cb\u003ePush\u003c\/b\u003e journeys through the harsh realities of African American existence to find the \"door to the possibility of now.\" The heroes that emerge from these forty-seven vigorous poems confront the agony of betrayal as they strive in their quest for self-transformation and redemption. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrom the city streets to the rich landscape of dreams, each of these poems holds out the \"black wings of expectation\" offering the chance to emerge from the pain of the past and arrive at \"the day you have been waiting for\/when you would finally begin to live.\" At turns alarming and inspiring, the raw lyrics and piercing wisdom of \u003cb\u003eBlack Wings \u0026amp; Blind Angels\u003c\/b\u003e remind us of Sapphire's place as a unique and fearless voice.\"Few literary works today are as affecting as [Sapphire's] or have had as much impact on our society.\" --\u003ci\u003ePoets and Writers\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"An enrapturing voice that charms and shocks.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Miami Herald\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"In \u003cb\u003eBlack Wings and Blind Angels\u003c\/b\u003e, Sapphire hammers home pain until it is the shape of hope. . . . It is a must for poetry fans.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Advocate\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"[Sapphire's] characteristic intensity mixes with classical as well as experimental forms, excavating dreams, memory, and history to address a multitude of topics.\" --\u003ci\u003eThe Village Voice Literary Supplement\u003c\/i\u003eSapphire is the author of \u003cb\u003eAmerican Dreams\u003c\/b\u003e, a collection of poetry which was cited by \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e as, \"One of the strongest debut collections of the nineties.\" \u003cb\u003ePush\u003c\/b\u003e, her novel, won the Book-of-the-Month Club Stephen Crane award for First Fiction, the Black Caucus of the American Library Association's First Novelist Award, and, in Great Britain, the Mind Book of the Year Award. \u003cb\u003ePush\u003c\/b\u003e was named by the \u003ci\u003eVillage Voice\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eTime Out New York\u003c\/i\u003e as one of the top ten books of 1996. \u003cb\u003ePush\u003c\/b\u003e was nominated for an NAACP Image Award in the category of Outstanding Literary Work of Fiction. About her most recent book of poetry \u003ci\u003ePoet's and Writer's Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e wrote, \"With her soul on the line in each verse, her latest collection, \u003cb\u003eBlack Wings \u0026amp; Blind Angels\u003c\/b\u003e, retains Sapphire's incendiary power to win hearts and singe minds.\" Sapphire's work has appeared in \u003ci\u003eThe New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Black Scholar\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eSpin\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eBomb\u003c\/i\u003e. In February of 2007 Arizona State University presented \u003ci\u003ePUSHing Boundaries, PUSHing Art: A Symposium on the Works of Sapphire\u003c\/i\u003e. Sapphire's work has been translated into eleven languages and has been adapted for stage in the United States and Europe. \u003ci\u003ePrecious\u003c\/i\u003e, the film adaption of her novel, recently won the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Awards in the U.S. dramatic competition at Sundance (2009).Breaking Karma #5\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ei\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt is like a scene in a play.\u003cbr\u003eHis bald spot shines upward between dark tufts of hair.\u003cbr\u003eWe are sitting in a pool of light on the plastic\u003cbr\u003ecovered couch, Ernestine, his last live-in,\u003cbr\u003eended up with. But that is the end.\u003cbr\u003eWe are sitting in the beginning of our lives now\u003cbr\u003elooking at our father upright in his black\u003cbr\u003ereclining chair. It's four of us then, children,\u003cbr\u003enew to Los Angeles--drugs, sex, Watts burning,\u003cbr\u003eAretha, Michael Jackson, the murder of King,\u003cbr\u003ehaven't happened yet.\u003cbr\u003eHe is explaining how things will be--\u003cbr\u003eWhich one will cook, which one will clean.\u003cbr\u003e\"Your mama,\" he announces, \"is not coming.\"\u003cbr\u003eTwo thousand miles away in the yellow\u003cbr\u003elinoleum light of her kitchen, my mother\u003cbr\u003eis sitting in the easy tan-colored man's lap.\u003cbr\u003eKissing him. Her perfect legs golden like\u003cbr\u003ewhiskey, his white shirt rolled up arms that\u003cbr\u003esurround her like the smell of cake baking.\u003cbr\u003e\"Forget about her,\" my father's voice drops like\u003cbr\u003ea curtain, \"she doesn't want you. She never did.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eii\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHolding the photograph by its serrated edges, staring,\u003cbr\u003eI know the dark grey of her lips is \"Jubilee Red\"\u003cbr\u003eher face brown silk. I start with the slick\u003cbr\u003ecorner of the photograph, put it in my mouth like it's\u003cbr\u003epizza or something. I close my eyes, chew, swallow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Breaking Karma #6\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI'm in the movies now playing the part\u003cbr\u003eof the girl who broke my heart.\u003cbr\u003eMy mouth, strobe-light pink, bounces off blue sequins.\u003cbr\u003eBehind me the Stones sing \"Miss You,\" hollering,\u003cbr\u003e\"There's some Puerto Rican girls around the corner\u003cbr\u003ejust dying to meet chu.\"\u003cbr\u003eIn the wings a white boy in a wheelchair moans,\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh operator please get straight.\"\u003cbr\u003eSHE takes the stage now. Big yella gal.\u003cbr\u003eDaddy was a wop. Mama was a nigger.\u003cbr\u003eShe's a singer. With a voice hot semi-liquid rock.\u003cbr\u003eHer heels are hills, cobalt blue melting like\u003cbr\u003eher dress into the firm breasts, fat hips \u0026amp; belly\u003cbr\u003eof Black Los Angeles.\u003cbr\u003e\"Let's burn down the corn field,\" SHE wails.\u003cbr\u003eIt's 1968. Tito, Michael, Randy \u0026amp; Cato\u003cbr\u003eare dancing down rows of rainbow colored corn\u003cbr\u003ewhen a voice comes over the loud speaker:\u003cbr\u003eThere will be no ambulances tonight.\u003cbr\u003e\"We'll make love, we'll make love while it burns,\"\u003cbr\u003eSHE screams like Howlin' Wolf, like Jay Hawkins,\u003cbr\u003elike Hank Williams, like Van Gogh's windmill,\u003cbr\u003elike the severed ear of black wind in a plate\u003cbr\u003eof pigtails \u0026amp; pink beans,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elike that bridge in Connecticut that collapsed\u003cbr\u003eunder the center of air shaking like\u003cbr\u003echange in a cup.\u003cbr\u003eSHE stands like the big legs of a nuclear plant\u003cbr\u003ecracked at the base melting down a room full\u003cbr\u003eof $3\/hr assembly line workers who hear her\u003cbr\u003e\u0026amp; shout, \"Honey Hush!\" \u0026amp; the crack in their\u003cbr\u003emother's back becomes a sidewalk, then a road\u003cbr\u003eleading to a peach tree in \"Georgy\"\u003cbr\u003eor a pear tree in Florida.\u003cbr\u003eI'm eating popcorn \u0026amp; watching a Mexican\u003cbr\u003edump a drunk paraplegic BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY\u003cbr\u003ein the desert his granddad rolled over\u003cbr\u003ea century ago killing for gold.\u003cbr\u003eAt the side of the road an Okie girl,\u003cbr\u003eselling peanuts \u0026amp; semiprecious gems,\u003cbr\u003ehands me three pieces of black obsidian,\u003cbr\u003ecalled \"Apache Tears,\" the Okie girl drawls,\u003cbr\u003e\"'cause after the cavalry massacred their men,\u003cbr\u003ethe Native women cried so hard\u003cbr\u003etheir tears turned black, then to stone.\"\u003cbr\u003eInside the theater the screen fills up\u003cbr\u003ewith a fat half breed burning, gasoline\u003cbr\u003ein a blue dress. SHE picks up a\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emicrophone \u0026amp; in a book she hasn't read yet\u003cbr\u003ea white boy in a rented room puts\u003cbr\u003ehis eyes out with lye. \"I rather!\" SHE shouts.\u003cbr\u003e\"Tell it!\" the audience shouts back. \"Umm hmm,\"\u003cbr\u003elike the wind trapped in a slave castle SHE moans,\u003cbr\u003e\"I rather go blind,\" the screen melts white\u003cbr\u003edrips down her face \u0026amp; disappears,\u003cbr\u003e\"than see you--\"","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300596601061,"sku":"NP9780679767312","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780679767312.jpg?v=1767722726","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/black-wings-blind-angels-isbn-9780679767312","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}