Item description for Sorry, Tree by Eileen Myles...
"One of the savviest and most restless intellects in contemporary literature-honest, jokey, paranoid, sentimental, mean, lyrical, tough, you name it."-Dennis Cooper
Eileen Myles has written thousands of poems since she gave her first reading at CBGB in 1974. BUST magazine calls her "the rock star of modern poetry" and The New York Times says she's "a cult figure to a generation of post-punk females forming their own literary avant garde."
Myles' trademark punk-lesbian sensibility and intimate knowledge of poetic tradition are at work in this eighth collection, where every love poem is political, and every political poem is, ultimately, about love.
I thought if I inventoried home it would be broad my eyes fling open like a doll's to the virtual space that suddenly resembles the walls the most interesting artists are large; monsters while the people we know are masses of flowers & when I turn on my cellphone I see everyone
Eileen Myles has published over a dozen books of poetry, prose, and plays. Formerly the director of the St. Mark's Poetry Project, as well as a write-in candidate for president in 1992, she now teaches at the University of California, San Diego. In 1997 Myles toured with Sister Spit's Ramblin' Road Show. Her books include Skies, on my way, Cool for You (a novel), School of Fish, Maxfield Parrish, Not Me, and Chelsea Girls (stories).
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Est. Packaging Dimensions: Length: 0.25" Width: 5.75" Height: 9" Weight: 0.35 lbs.
Release Date Apr 1, 2007
Publisher Wave Books
ISBN 1933517204 ISBN13 9781933517209
Availability 16 units. Availability accurate as of Jan 16, 2017 09:59.
Usually ships within one to two business days from La Vergne, TN.
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More About Eileen Myles
Eileen Myles, named by BUST magazine "the rock star of modern poetry," is the author of more than twenty books of poetry and prose, including "Chelsea Girls, Cool for You, Sorry, Tree, " and "Not Me" (Semiotext(e), 1991), and is the coeditor of "The New Fuck You" (Semiotext(e), 1995). Myles was head of the writing program at University of California, San Diego, from 2002 to 2007, and she has written extensively on art and writing and the cultural scene. Most recently, she received a fellowship from the Andy Warhol/Creative Capital Foundation.
Reviews - What do customers think about Sorry, Tree?
Sorry, Haters Mar 30, 2007
I've been a fan of Eileen Myles for decades since I first saw her give a reading, with Michael Lally and Tim Dlugos so you know it's got to have been a long time ago.
She would tip her hat to people like John Wieners and James Schuyler but she was always herself, people dubbed her the female this or that (like "the female Ted Berrigan") but that wasn't what she was about. Everytime she was pegged she shrugged her shoulders like Samson and brought down the pegs and the ropes around her, and the roofs and the ceilings of the master's stone buildings. Her line could sometimes be "Schuyler-esque" (and in the new book there's even a Schuyleresque *title,* "April 7) but in the long body of history, I think, Schuyler will be seen to have forecast Myles, rather than have influenced her, because you can forecast the weather but how are you going to influence it--except with the evil global warming of which Jimmy S would have been incapable even in metaphor.
"A book is/ a web I suppose," writes Myles, in "Fifty-Three," but this isn't going to be one of those dreary poems about, what is a book? "A book is/ a web I suppose/ saying you come/ here to go/ out an/ incessant/ trembling bridge/ which a tree/ is/ I imagine." At first I thought the book, with that title, SORRY, TREE, was going be a wry apology for cutting down the tree to make the pulp onto which the book is spread, like jam. But hurray, that's not what the title is alluding to! (I read this part, with the lyrics of that Serge Gainsbourg tune skipping through my brain: "Sorry angel/ Sorry so.") Myles has often included, in her books of "poetry," some sort of prose essay, or manifesto, around which the poems accrete and gain meaning; maybe these prose pieces are also there to detourne the shape of the book, to make it not all poetry, for Myles is a well known despiser of genre's segregations. In SORRY, TREE we get "Everyday Barf," which starts out as a simple tale of seasickness on a ferry to Provincetown, and becomes, very quickly, an analysis of everything right and wrong in our world, and everything true and false about the individual in it. I heard Myles read "Everyday Barf" in a darkened performance hall in Los Angeles in the Gehry designed Disney Concert Hall three years back, at the "Seance" conference organized by CalArts. It was a day of extraordinary papers, from everyone from Shelley Jackson to Dennis Cooper to Madeline Gins, but this was the most exhilarating, a ship in a bottle she sent flying through wet and salty air--and we were in it like little people. Like the tiny leaves on the trees here in California.
Last time around she published SKIES, which deliberately limited its subject matter, like an Oulipo constraint, and found variety everywhere, but it wasn't my favorite by her. I almost said that SORRY, TREE is what I like, except its newness is still bewildering. In publishing SORRY, TREE Wave Books has upped the ante on themselves, for in one move, releasing a new book by one of the world's greatest poets has put their previous books all in the shade. They have all of them been adequate, even fine books, perfectly serviceable, but that's like saying a breeze has been perfectly serviceable but when a hurricane blows into town you don't notice the breeze any longer, does it even exist?