This Brighter Prison: A Book of Journeys
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About this ebook
Karen Connelly
Karen Connelly, a native of Calgary, has lived in Thailand, Spain, France and Greece. Her travels are an integral part of her writing. Touch the Dragon, a travel book deriving from her experience in Thailand, won the 1993 Governor General's Award for Non-fiction.
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This Brighter Prison - Karen Connelly
This Brighter Prison
A Book of Journeys
This Brighter Prison
A Book of Journeys
Karen Connelly
Brick Books
CANADIAN CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION DATA
Connelly, Karen, 1969 –
This brighter prison: a book of journeys
Poems.
ISBN 978-1-771312-64-6
1. Title.
PS8555.055T5
1993 c811'.54 C93-093755-4
PR9199.3.C65T5 1993
Copyright © Karen Connelly, 1993.
Fifth printing, June 2000.
The support of the Canada Council and the Ontario Arts Council is gratefully acknowledged. The support of the Government of Ontario through the Ministry of Culture and Communications is also gratefully acknowledged.
Cover painting by Joane Cardinal-Schubert, ‘The Banff Series-Moonlight Sonata: Vision Quest’, acrylic on canvas, 1989. Photographed by John Dean.
Brick Books
Box 20081
431 Boler Road
London, Ontario
N6K 4G6
Canada
www.brickbooks.ca
Acknowledgements
I gratefully acknowledge the former Alberta Foundation for Literary Arts and Alberta Culture, whose financial assistance enabled me to complete this collection.
I would like to thank the faculty and participants from the 1991 Banff May Studios, especially the late Adele Wiseman, who gave us so much grace. Thanks is also due, as always, to Nancy Holmes, and to Dennis Lee and Don McKay, my editor.
Some of these poems have appeared in their current or slightly altered forms in the following periodicals and anthologies:
Books In Canada, Dandelion, Descant, Grain, Guerra Azul (Spain), More Garden Varieties II, Midwest Quarterly (U.S.), New Myths (U.S.), The New Quarterly, Passages, Poetry Canada, Prism International, Secrets from the Orange Couch, Stand (England).
‘Amaya’ and ‘Amaya, in spring’ were aired on CBC'S Alberta Anthology.
For my brothers and sisters,
Ken, Mara, David, Jen
and for Scott Gabriel.
Contents
Part I: Spanish Lessons
Spanish Lessons
The Old Man Presents Himself
Ana Falls In Love With A Rich Man
Amaya
Amaya, in spring
Would You Trade Your Life To Live There?
Rat Laughter
Teeth Of Garlic
The Ugly Mermaid
A Song For Lorca
Isadora and the Basque Photographer
A Painting For Rachel
A Bowl Of Yellow Flowers Stains The Canvas
Part II: Paris Is Not A Dream
Paris Is Not A Dream
Jean-Louis, eight years after the Italian girl went away
The Jeweller In Brazil
Journal without dates: from Paris to Honfleur to Caen
Part III: I Kneel To Kiss The Ice
I Kneel To Kiss The Ice
She Returns To The Farm
Animals I Cannot Touch
This Domain Of Dark Wing
Living Nowhere
The Attic Of Paper Dragons
This Brighter Prison
No Green Tongue
Love has nothing to do with closing your eyes
An Evening Wake, Its Prayer
Something is burning
Words Woven From The Sadness Of Evening Trains
My Photographs Of Madeleine
The Word Is Absurd
Part IV: A Grand Place, A Greeting
A Grand Place, A Greeting
Sleeping Near The Graveyard
The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting…
I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part.
– Annie Dillard
Spanish Lessons
For Anayensi Lopez Herraiz
Spanish Lessons
Spain takes you in like a masked lover,
ties you up with a red scarf,
throws you the ocean's score
and commands you to sing.
You are fooled by the grace of a man's hand
gliding over a woman's bronze neck.
You are fooled by black eyelashes, amber eyes,
mouths that smell of chocolate and wine.
Spain teaches that the body is its own absolute.
The body is greedy and simple, honest, a hungry child.
The Mediterranean insists that the mind
is a snake in the sand,
turning its sharp tongue in venom.
In El Greco's city of narrow streets, the sabres
pierce your eyes to sunsets
that awe even the gods.
Through a butterfly dance of bats, the violet sky
sweeps down to kiss the velvet desert,
reaches down to kiss your face,
and stars drop ivory petals of light in your eyes.
The Old Man Presents Himself
Suddenly it is cold.
Green strokes of summer, a dream.
Burnt gold of fall, a good lie.
The sea beats its heart on the shore
as fishermen beat tough octopi.
Water writhes into my life.
I must lie still, still, without slipping down.
Morning, but too cold to rise.
Tea from the tin–could it scald me to life?
The kitchen is a great distance from my bed.
The ceiling drips fine mud over my head.
Black pools poise to swallow my naked feet.
Now the Old Man presents himself at the roof
and begins to eat.
I hear his mouth tear the tiles.
I hear his teeth break on the bricks.
He is crag-boned and blind.
His bitter sleep is