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Earlier Poems
The haunting collection of poems that gathers the first four books of Pulitzer winner Franz Wright under one cover, where “fans old and new will find a feast amid famine” (Publishers Weekly), and discover how large this poet’s gift was from the start.
Walking to Martha's Vineyard
In this radiant new collection, Franz Wright shares his regard for life in all its forms and his belief in the promise of blessing and renewal. As he watches the “Resurrection of the little apple tree outside / my window,” he shakes off his fear of mortality, concluding “what death . . . There is only / mine / or yours,– / but the world / will be filled with the living.” In prayerlike poems he invokes the one “who spoke the world / into being” and celebrates a dazzling universe–snowflakes descending at nightfall, the intense yellow petals of the September sunflower, the planet adrift in a blizzard of stars, the simple mystery of loving other people. As Wright overcomes a natural tendency toward loneliness and isolation, he gives voice to his hope for “the only animal that commits suicide,” and, to our deep pleasure, he arrives at a place of gratitude that is grounded in the earth and its moods.
Leave Me Hidden
Poetry. Poets speak metaphorically of poets of previous generations as their spiritual and artistic parents or grandparents. For Franz Wright, this is literally true: his father, James Wright, was one of the most influential American poets of the latter half of the twentieth century. In this book Franz Wright is more intimate than ever before. His collection is a description of the struggle with the demons associated with following in the lineage of a great poet. We can find more of Wright himself in this collection, more of his identity, a grown up man who finally conquers the stigma of living in the shadow of his father. The memories of James Wright are clear and vivid but not a torment. In poems like "Recurring Dream," "Admonitions To Self," "The Future," "Untitled Poem in Three Parts," Franz Wright steps into a new phase of his own writing, he is more accessible to the reader and lets us pick and choose among his hopes and reflections. He alternates between memories of his family and present experiences in a rental apartment. He reveals the splendor and grandiosity of a friendship in the short poem "The Future" where we find a generous man taking care of a fallen friend.
The Beforelife
In this stunning collection, Franz Wright chronicles the journey back from a place of isolation and wordlessness. After a period when it seemed certain he would never write poetry again, he speaks with bracing clarity about the twilit world that lies between madness and sanity, addiction and recovery. Wright negotiates the precarious transition from illness to health in a state of skeptical rapture, discovering along the way the exhilaration of love--both divine and human--and finding that even the most battered consciousness can be good company. Whether he is writing about his regret for the abortion of a child, describing the mechanics of slander ("I can just hear them on the telephone and...
Entries of the Cell
Poetry. ENTRIES OF THE CELL is some of Franz Wright's best writing in years. "The cell will teach you all things" is a saying of some early Christians who, in the third century, bewildered to find that no matter what they did and no matter how powerful their faith, the new world they dreamed of far too closely resembled the irreparably corrupt old world. Their remedy to this dilemma was to withdraw from the cities of their time into the desolate solitude in which they found God's presence perpetually closer and more available to them. The saying has been adopted by the Society of the Brotherhood of St. John the Evangelist where, at their Cambridge branch, T. S. Eliot attended services while teaching at Harvard in the thirties. Dedicated to Franz Wright's friend Palestinian poet Fady Joudah—good husband, dad, emergency room MD in Houston and American translator of Mahmoud Darwish—the book is a single poem. Its title is meant to suggest all kinds of cells—body, jail, but primarily the cell in the sense of the small functional bare room in which a monk prays, studies and sleeps.
God's Silence
In this luminous new collection of poems, Franz Wright expands on the spiritual joy he found in his Pulitzer Prize-winning Walking to Martha’s Vineyard. Wright, whom we know as a poet of exquisite miniatures, opens God’s Silence with “East Boston, 1996,” a powerful long poem that looks back at the darker moments in the formation of his sensibility. He shares his private rules for bus riding (“No eye contact: the eyes of the terrified / terrify”), and recalls, among other experiences, his first encounter with a shotgun, as an eight-year-old boy (“In a clearing in the cornstalks . . . it was suggested / that I fire / on that muttering family of crows”). Throughout this volume, ...
F
In these riveting poems, Wright declares, “I’ve said all that / I had to say. / In writing. / I signed my name. / It’s death’s move.” As he considers his mortality, the poet finds a new elation and clarity on the page, handing over for our examination the flawed yet kneeling-in-gratitude self he has become. F stands both for Franz, the poet-speaker who represents all of us on our baffling lifelong journeys, and for the alphabet, the utility and sometimes brutality of our symbols. (It may be, he jokes grimly, his “grade in life.”) From “Entries of the Cell,” the long central poem that details the loneliness of the single soul, to short narrative prose poems and traditional lyrics, Wright revels in the compensatory power of language, observing the daytime headlights following a hearse, or the wind, “blessing one by one the unlighted buds of the backbent peach tree’s unnoted return.” He is at his best in this beautiful and startling collection.
Wheeling Motel
In his tenth collection of poetry, Franz Wright gives us an exquisite book of reconciliation with the past and acceptance of what may come in the future. From his earliest years, he writes in “Will,” he had “the gift of impermanence / so I would be ready, / accompanied / by a rage to prove them wrong / . . . and that I too was worthy of love.” This rage comes coupled with the poet’s own brand of love, what he calls “one / strange alone / heart’s wish / to help all / hearts.” Poetry is indeed Wright’s help, and he delivers it to us with a wry sense of the daily in America: in his wonderfully local relationship to God (whom he encounters along with a catfish in the emerald shallows of Walden Pond); in the little West Virginia motel of the title poem, on the banks of the great Ohio River, where “Tammy Wynette’s on the marquee” and he is visited by the figure of Walt Whitman, “examining the tear on a dead face.” Here, in Wheeling Motel, Wright’s poetry continues to surprise us with its frank appraisal of our soul, and with his own combustible loneliness and unstoppable joy.
F / Poemas
Un poemario sobre la conciencia de la propia muerte muy clarividente y libre de drama. Mientras consideraba su mortalidad, Franz Wright encontró una nueva euforia y claridad en la página, entregando para nuestro examen el "yo" defectuoso pero arrodillado en gratitud en el que se había convertido. Desde «Entries of the Cell», el largo poema central que detalla la soledad del alma soltera, hasta breves poemas narrativos en prosa y letras tradicionales, Wright se deleita en el poder compensatorio del lenguaje, observando los faros diurnos que siguen a un coche fúnebre, o el viento, «bendiciendo uno por uno los capullos sin luz del regreso inadvertido del melocotonero doblado hacia atrás».
Kindertotenwald
A genre-bending collection of prose poems from Pulitzer Prize–winner Franz Wright brings us surreal tales of childhood, adolescence, and adult awareness, moving from the gorgeous to the shocking to a sense of peace. Wright’s most intimate thoughts and images appear before us in dramatic and spectral short narratives: mesmerizing poems whose colloquial sound and rhythms announce a new path for this luminous and masterful poet. In these journeys, we hear the constant murmured “yes” of creation—“it will be packing its small suitcase soon; it will leave the keys dangling from the lock and set out at last,” Wright tells us. He introduces us to the powerful presences in his world (th...
