Item description for Darling Vulgarity (American Poets Continuum) by Michael Waters...
With both ardor and sensuality, Darling Vulgarity challenges us to embrace humanity's imperfections while urging us toward new spiritual realities. And then, sometimes, the poems are just plain sexy. Or, as Nat Hardy wrote, "Waters' meditative and confessional forays into the sexual sublime are both disturbing and artfully passionate." Darling Vulgarity also includes poems based on Waters' true literary experiences with such notables as Raymond Carver, Allen Ginsberg, and Robert Lowell.
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Est. Packaging Dimensions: Length: 0.25" Width: 6" Height: 9" Weight: 0.3 lbs.
Release Date Oct 1, 2006
Publisher BOA Editions Ltd.
ISBN 1929918852 ISBN13 9781929918850
Availability 1 units. Availability accurate as of May 24, 2017 11:42.
Usually ships within one to two business days from La Vergne, TN.
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More About Michael Waters
Waters is a professor of English at Salisbury University on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. He has taught in the creative writing program at Ohio University and the University of Maryland and has been Visiting Professor of American Literature at the University of Athens, Greece, as well as Banister Writer-in-Residence at Sweet Briar College in Virginia.
Reviews - What do customers think about Darling Vulgarity (American Poets Continuum)?
Unexpected find. These poems are very much alive. Mar 10, 2008
I am a Creative Writing major with a focus on poetry. I brought my spouse to the Los Angeles Times Book Fair last year and convinced him to sit with me for some poetry readings. The first poet was nothing fabulous and I could see my husband getting fussy. I asked him to just wait for one more reading and then we could leave. The MC introduced the next poet, Michael Waters, and after a quick introduction he recited from memory a sensational narrative poem entitled "Horse". The language, humor, and performance was so wonderful that the crowd, awakened and charged, applauded enthusiastically and even my less than poetically-inclined husband laughed, looked at me, and said "That was good!"
"Horse" is unfortunately not in this book, but the rest of his selected readings were and they all proved to be as uniquely engaging and unexpected in terms of narrative path. I purchased the book afterwards and, after spending a few nights with it, I was pleased once again with how alive his work is.
I'd like to post "Horse" and a poem from the book, "Wedding Dress", (which I hope will not upset the author or publisher since I hope only to give a reference point for other readers as well as the fact that both poems are currently already posted on other websites).
The first horse I ever saw was hauling a wagon stacked with furniture past storefronts along Knickerbocker Avenue. He was taller than a car, blue-black with flies,
and bits of green ribbon tied to his mane bounced near his caked and rheumy eyes. I had seen horses in books before, but this horse shimmered in the Brooklyn noon.
I could hear his hooves strike the tar, the colossal nostrils snort back the heat, and breathe his inexorable, dung-tinged fume. Under the enormous belly, his ----
swung like the policeman's nightstick, a dowsing rod, longer than my arm- even the Catholic girls could see it hung there like a rubber spigot.
When he let loose, the steaming street flowed with frothy, spattering urine. And when he stopped to let the junkman toss a tabletop onto the wagon bed,
I worked behind his triangular head to touch his foreleg above the knee, the muscle jerking the mat of hair. Horse, I remember thinking,
four years old and standing there, struck momentarily dumb, while the power gathered in his thigh surged like language into my thumb.
That Halloween I wore your wedding dress, our children spooked & wouldn't speak for days. I'd razored taut calves smooth, teased each blown tress, then-lipsticked, mascara'd, & self-amazed- shimmied like a starlet on the dance floor. I'd never felt so sensual before- Catholic schoolgirl & neighborhood whore. In bed, dolled up, undone, we fantasized: we clutched & fused, torn twins who'd been denied. You were my shy groom. Love, I was your bride.