{"product_id":"easy-isbn-9780375711879","title":"Easy","description":"A “delightful” (\u003ci\u003ePoetry),\u003c\/i\u003e celebratory volume of late-life poems from the award-winning octogenarian Marie Ponsot.\u003cp\u003e“Few poets are as infectiously joyful to read as Marie Ponsot . . . a woman whose cliché- bashing wit and experience only seem to make her fresh, almost childlike wonderment in the world around her . . . that much more arresting.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e—\u003ci\u003eVogue\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003eMarie Ponsot is the author of six collections of poetry. Professor Emerita of English at Queens College, CUNY, she teaches at the Unterberg Poetry Center of the 92nd Street Y and at the New School in Manhattan. Her awards include the Phi Beta Kappa Medal, the Shaughnessy Prize of the Modern Language Association, and the Poetry Society of America’s Frost Medal for lifetime achievement. She lives in New York City.THIS BRIDGE, LIKE POETRY, IS VERTIGO\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIn a time of dearth bring forth number, weight, \u0026amp; measure.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e—WILLIAM BLAKE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDescribing the wind that drives it, cloud\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003erides between earth and space. Cloud\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eshields earth from sun-scorch. Cloud\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebursts to cure earth’s thirst. Cloud\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e—airy, wet, photogenic—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eis a bridge or go-between;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eit does as it is done by.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt condenses. It evaporates.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt draws seas up, rains down.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI do love the drift of clouds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCloud-love is irresistible,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003euntypical, uninfinite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDeep above the linear city this morning\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe cloud’s soft bulk is almost unmoving.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe winds it rides are thin;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eit makes them visible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs sun hits it or if sun\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003equits us it’s blown away\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eor rains itself or snows itself away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt is indefinite:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis dawns on me: no cloud is measurable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMake mine cloud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMake mind cloud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe clarity of cloud is in its edgelessness,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eits each instant of edge involving\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ein formal invention, always\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eat liberty, at it, incessantly altering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA lucky watcher will catch it\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eas it makes big moves:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eup the line of sight it lifts\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003euntil it conjugates or\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edissipates,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eits unidentical being intact\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethough it admits flyers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt lets in wings. It lets them go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt lets them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt embraces mountains \u0026amp; spires built\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eto be steadfast; as it goes on\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eit lets go of them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt is not willing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt is not unwilling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLate at night when my outdoors is\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eindoors, I picture clouds again:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCome to mind, cloud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCome to cloud, mind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAST\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWaste-pipe sweat, unchecked, has stained the floor\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eunder the kitchen sink. For twenty years\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eit’s eased my carelessness into a mean soft place,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eits dirty secret dark, in a common place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eToday the pipe’s fixed. Workmen rip up the floor\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethat’s served and nagged me all these good\/bad years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey cut and set in new boards, to last for years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHouse-kept no more, I waltz out of the place\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eclean-shod and leave no footprint on the floor,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edisplaced and unfloored. This year, nothing goes to waste.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTV, EVENING NEWS\u003cbr\u003e—seen on CNN, autumn 2005, Afghanistan\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s a screenful of chaos but\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe cameraman’s getting good framing shots\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efrom behind one woman’s back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe audio’s poor. The shouts are slices of noise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don’t know the languages.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo hot hit heroes are there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo wicked people are there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAchilles is not there, or Joshua either.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRachel is not there, nor Sojourner Truth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIwo Jima flag boys? not there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwin Towers first defenders? not there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy children are thank God not there\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eany more or less than you and I are not there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI safe screen-watch. A youth\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyoung in his uniform\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esignals his guard squad\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etwice: OK go, to the tanks\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand the cameramen: OK go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe tank takes the house wall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe house genuflects. The tank proceeds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe house kneels. The roof dives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe woman howls. Dust rises.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey cut to the next shot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe young men and the woman\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebreathe the dust of the house\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewhich now is its prayer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA dust cloud rises, at one\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewith the prayer of all the kneeling houses\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003easking to be answered\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand answerable anywhere.","brand":"Knopf","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303611093221,"sku":"NP9780375711879","price":17.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780375711879.jpg?v=1767725818","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/easy-isbn-9780375711879","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}