THE RACCOON
TOM BLOOD
Winner of the 2007 Oregon Book Award for Poetry for his, and MPHs first title "The Sky Position" Tom Blood returns with this collection of 70 new poems.
Praise for Blood's The Sky Position: "In his author's note, Tom Blood avers that these remarkable poems "were written while staring out a window." Clearly, if ever there was a magic casement, it is Blood's. Here, perception becomes a beautiful act of absolute sympathy and attention a continuous evidence of perfect compassion. Never once does Blood diminish or deform his subjects. Rather, he puts his syntax and his self entirely at the service of their well-beloved motion. These are poems for the world, in all its wildness, in all its nearness." -Donald Revell
Praise for Blood's Raccoon: "The Raccoon is the work of an unusually gifted poet, a true eccentric and original worthy of serious attention." -Rob Crawford, Best American Poetry
ISBN: 978-1-934399-17-0
COVER: 1/0 LETTERPRESSED
TEXT: 1/1 OFFSET
SMYTH SEWN, PERFECT BOUND
19cm X 26.7cm
EDITION: 296
2011, 18 USD
TOM READS EVERY POEM, HERE:
the world is a moth, no, a butterfly
purporting to describe statement
let us escape into the world
returning to the non-event
true darkness
still, strangely, that light
if i stay, it'll be in a grave
as without
no remains
if i am allowed to live
i want my own life
living in a light of days
taking dew deep within
exactly why there is a mountain
a thing by itself is a truth
what's left to say
it's called the first line
at most once
as, at the end of time, ends
you knew but didn't tell
allusions to illusions
we come back feeling insubstantial
exchanging of info or, talking
in the dream we are night
an attempt on my life
airfoil on a rusty Toyota
a UPS truck guns at us from the shadows
five highway accidents and 5 fires
ash on ice in rivers
is everybody gone
incompletion
stop and consider this
portray
basic yardsticks of the emotions
so he goes "'truth', that's not really my 'thing'"
Jim, in the act of being
the basketball conjugation of go in the hoop
let's fight
total misunderstanding
our voices among a sea of ghosts
you can leave your life once
silencing the world into its statue
a verb is a lot like a metaphor for a preposition's article
it occurred to me
what makes me so cool
four corn flowers at the center of the universe
the mind is more about wishes than reality
it's not what we think it is
the boom light
only time will teal
it's not the same
rapping established in the pantheon of fine arts
verse isn't explanations
you have a perfect idea of rain
things don't occur because there is an explanation
it's not just us here is it
building a sky viewing building
all prisons are escaped, lush orchards, the end
the horrible everything
a cavalier identity
I release my things
I belong with the barbarians of anthropology
I was led into the forest by a light
not really understanding the rules
most ignorant
can I ask you a question
somebody knows something
that has nothing to do with this
on not having read Pale Fire by Nabokov
not here right now