True Stories"True stories intensifies and extends many of the themes in Margaret Atwood's critically acclaimed novel Bodily harm: the necessity of bearing witness to the crimes of repressive political societies and the redemptive power of friendship. Many of the poems are conerned with the unreliability of human perception and the self-deluding "true" stories we tell to give ourselves a sense of identity of stature. The collection also includes a number of extraordinarily and passionate and luminous love poems."--Back cover. |
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Page 27
... anyway ? Stars , cut glass , and water , and you in your serene blue shirt standing beside a window while it rains , nothing much going on , intangible . To put your hand into the light reveals the hand but the light also : shining is ...
... anyway ? Stars , cut glass , and water , and you in your serene blue shirt standing beside a window while it rains , nothing much going on , intangible . To put your hand into the light reveals the hand but the light also : shining is ...
Page 28
... anyway there's a great view : the sea , a line of surf , brown cliffs tufted with scrub , your upturned face a white zero . I wish I knew whether you'll catch or watch . Mouth to mouth I'm bringing you back to life . 28 2.
... anyway there's a great view : the sea , a line of surf , brown cliffs tufted with scrub , your upturned face a white zero . I wish I knew whether you'll catch or watch . Mouth to mouth I'm bringing you back to life . 28 2.
Page 80
... anyway smeared with grease and littered with exhausted lunches and clumps of torn - out hair . There's a seagull , avarice in its yellow eye . It would like us face down in the ebbtide . I hold your hand , which probably detaches at the ...
... anyway smeared with grease and littered with exhausted lunches and clumps of torn - out hair . There's a seagull , avarice in its yellow eye . It would like us face down in the ebbtide . I hold your hand , which probably detaches at the ...
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Common terms and phrases
beach become believe blood blue body bone branches breathe child clean clear close colour comes dance darkness dead death difference dishes don't dream earth edges enter everything expect eyes face fall fields finger fire flesh floor give glass gone green hair hands happen hard head heart hold hole hollow hope inside it's keep kill leave legs lies light live look mean moon mouth move never night noon once pain poem pure purple rains round running salt sand shining sing skin sleep slowly space spell stars stone summer taste teeth tell there's things thrown tiny told touch trees true story turn voice wake walk walls watch waves week wind window woman women write yellow you're