{"product_id":"cry-back-my-sea-isbn-9780593319505","title":"Cry Back My Sea","description":"\u003cb\u003eStunning poems of obsession, loss, and the desire for a renewed       self, from the award-winning poet\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I thought I had left behind the darkness \/ of the heart,” Arvio confesses in the poem “Small War.” The love Arvio traces in these pages is indeed a battle, one in which the best-laid plans are shattered. Rarely has a poet tackled intimate love with so much invention and bravery.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eIn poem after poem, we meet the troubling lover whose nearness and force undoes her. There are moments of reprieve: “my naked body and budding pleasure \/ in the weather of your presence. \/ Not whether your presence but how.” The voice is vulnerable, self-knowing, often funny; the poet seems to be writing these poems to save herself from a devastating passion. Her weapons are a cascade of brash, freely spoken lines and a powerful command of metaphor, wielded in a search for meaning and understanding.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThese breathtaking love poems make the collection Arvio’s most universal to date.\"Sarah Arvio's \u003ci\u003eCry Back My Sea\u003c\/i\u003e is a performance in the language of heartbreak and longing. . . Using nothing but words, Arvio sends out ripples of sounds and connotations that build up and pare down meaning into waves of sense and sensation. . . The swelling of words crests, and the foam left on the surface sounds like a foreign language that, as it turns out, you understand fluently. . . These poems are a tour through the semantics of someone else's mind, masterfully crafted by the poet to require just enough translation to conjure not just the satisfaction of surprise, but the intimacy of discovery that goes along with love and heartbreak.\" \u003cb\u003e—Vanessa Loh,\u003ci\u003e Shining Rock Poetry\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“These poems are an ode to the heart . . . The intimate love described is at times all desire and physical affection, until it becomes disconnection or violence, with an underlying theme of control over a woman . . . Arvio’s voice is witty and wise, candid and calculated. Although the poems can read like streams of consciousness, each is distinct, worthy, and shaped with skill and inventiveness.” \u003cb\u003e—Janet St. John, \u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“[A] truly original work of art . . . In her use of language, Arvio is among the most luminous and engaging poets of her generation. Even when dealing with a question as terrible as abandonment—the most terrible of all—the light never abandons the song, with its counterpoints and variations.” \u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Alejandro Oliveros,\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eProdavinci\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eSARAH ARVIO, the author of \u003ci\u003enight thoughts: 70 dream poems \u0026amp; notes from an analysis\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eSono: cantos\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eVisits from the Seventh\u003c\/i\u003e, and the translator of Federico García Lorca (\u003ci\u003ePoet in Spain\u003c\/i\u003e), is a recipient of the Rome Prize and the Bogliasco and Guggenheim Fellowships, among other honors. For many years a translator for the United Nations in New York and Switzerland, she has taught poetry at Princeton and Columbia. She lives in New York City.\u003cb\u003eNest\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eAnd then there came a day that was a day\u003cbr\u003ea world of my wanting with you in it\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eand all the small creatures came to our side\u003cbr\u003emewing and cheeping as small creatures do\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ea day I had wanted for a long time\u003cbr\u003ea small-creature hour in the life of our day\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ewhere there were many places to lie down \u003cbr\u003eand sigh and sleep and cogitate and hug\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ea huge happening among the small lives\u003cbr\u003ea little cuddle with a dream in it\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ea coddled egg an apron with a bib\u003cbr\u003ea nest for nourishing the ragged nerves\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eO robin O rabbit O bat O tiny vole\u003cbr\u003eall flyers and burrowers come to us now\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ethrough our heat ducts and tear ducts and chimneys \u003cbr\u003ecome to us with your small-world intentions\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003ethat place where only we know how to live\u003cbr\u003ewhere no one else knows what we say and do\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eno one knows the crumbs or the flies we eat \u003cbr\u003eor the silly songs we hum as we sleep\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eSinbad (or Symbiotic) \u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m agog in the synagogue of love\u003cbr\u003e and the sin is I don’t know my Sinbad\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Is he Gog or Bes or the seven dwarves\u003cbr\u003eHe \u003ci\u003ehas \u003c\/i\u003ebeen an assault on my senses\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e a leap and a slam and a somersault\u003cbr\u003eIt was in summer that we fell in love\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Love and hate he can’t get them straight \u003cbr\u003ewe should be sailing home in a schooner\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e He needs some synergy between his selves\u003cbr\u003einstead there’s ergonomic confusion\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He was erotic and he was erratic \u003cbr\u003ehe was scintillating and then savage\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It’s a symbiotic thing my bio and his \u003cbr\u003eI’ll need an antibiotic to fight him\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That’s a symbol for a powerful drug \u003cbr\u003eNo I think I’ll need a synecdoche\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I’ll need a singer in my synagogue \u003cbr\u003eThe sin is I’ve already left the dock\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e and I think I’ll need the seven voyages \u003cbr\u003eSzymborska could write this better than me\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I’m banging on my cymbals and crying out\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eSaudade saudade \u003c\/i\u003e is what’s coming for me\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I have to go now—though how I don’t know\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShoe\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was going to meet my own death\u003cbr\u003eand it stood me up\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Or that is I stood up and said \u003ci\u003enot now\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Some days I know I won’t stand for it\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Can you stand the thought of being dead \u003cbr\u003esome days I think I’ll take it lying down\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sometimes it’s good to take a stand\u003cbr\u003e though I think I want a standard-issue death\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Shoe in shoe out without a horn \u003cbr\u003eor play me a horn as I go and come\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Or maybe not you but someone else \u003cbr\u003ewhose job it is to usher me forth\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Stand down I don’t know what this means\u003cbr\u003eStand up and soft-shoe across the room\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The issue is well do you like your life\u003cbr\u003eOh hand me a tissue I do want to cry\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e There’s no such thing as a stand-alone shoe \u003cbr\u003eThere are always two to cover feet\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Think of not knowing how to feel\u003cbr\u003e think of that while dancing on your heel  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDeath might not be up or even down\u003cbr\u003e it could slip in sideways it could shuffle\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It could stand very still\u003cbr\u003e like a life on the stand of the world\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Do hand me a tissue or a handkerchief\u003cbr\u003eI don’t know whether to wave or cry\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I don’t know whether to live or die \u003cbr\u003eit could slide sideways after all\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Like two shoes dancing in the living room \u003cbr\u003eor two heels hopping in the dying room\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRed Dress   \u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s wrong to live wrong I was thinking this \u003cbr\u003eand wringing my hands I wrung my hands\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Wasn’t it right to live right and to write \u003cbr\u003eabout the right life rather than living wrong\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e and writing about the wrong life Which is righter \u003cbr\u003ewhich is wronger The thing is\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e if you have the wrong life you don’t \u003cbr\u003ewant to tell  thinking always that somehow you\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e will right it Righting and writing it’s a kind \u003cbr\u003eof redress a new dress I’ll put on when I\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e rewrite my life I’ll run out and get it now \u003cbr\u003ewhile there’s still time  a red dress for joy\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e a red dress for redress and I’ll dress you\u003cbr\u003e down as I walk out the door You’ll ring\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e and ring but I won’t rush back I won’t\u003cbr\u003e write back You’ll be right and I’ll be\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e wronged  and that’s what I’ll tell if I get \u003cbr\u003ethe time but not to you you won’t be told\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e You can read my redress in the papers \u003cbr\u003eI’ll be out on the town in my red dress","brand":"Knopf","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303481200869,"sku":"NP9780593319505","price":28.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593319505.jpg?v=1767724311","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/cry-back-my-sea-isbn-9780593319505","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}