By David Trinidad
"This magnum opus confirms David Trinidad's position within the poetic firmament: he's easily the simplest we now have. A priceless successor to James Schuyler, Trinidad writes soulfully and infrequently photorealistically in regards to the depression threshold the place dolls and stars turn into internal objects—dirty, glamorous, destructible. Jacqueline Susann meets Sei Shonagon? Trinidad manages to mix neo-formalist abstraction with dripping stunning figuration: Bonnard's rainy dream."—Wayne Koestenbaum
"This is a quantity celebratory in tone, panoramic in scope, humorous, and certainly relocating. Trinidad is on the middle of what's appropriate in his paintings. And this assortment is extra important and extra stress-free than any unmarried functionality he has given hence far."—D.A. Powell
"Trinidad attends to the current to determine into the prior with such needle element precision it's like encountering a wonderfully appointed motion picture set the place own reminiscence crosses in detail with cultural reminiscence. Poetic shape in Trinidad's palms is a metaphor for staking a declare at the fabric international while it slips away in a shimmery Hollywood dissolve—a determined, doomed reclamation of all that may by no means be held lengthy enough."—Robyn Schiff
"Utterly deadpan and astonishingly fine" is how Publishers Weekly defined the poems of David Trinidad. And this is the gathering all David Trinidad enthusiasts were ready for—the first e-book to have works from all his past books in addition to 40 new poems: Dear Prudence: New and chosen Poems.
Read Online or Download Dear Prudence: New and Selected Poems PDF
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Extra info for Dear Prudence: New and Selected Poems
Is he giving Dad head? 21 So much depended upon sponsors: Peyton Place is brought to you by . . 22 Note the orderly. No lines, but that look he gives Malone speaks volumes. 23 Lies, secrets, gossip and fucked-up families make this black-and-white world tick. 24 Both brothers shirtless in Norman’s bedroom. Who cares what’s in Mother’s will. [ 25 ] 25 Did Dorothy dream I’d gape, forty-ﬁve years later, at her queer blonde hair? 26 For days I haven’t been able to get the theme song out of my head.
Mark’s mother worked as a cashier at K-Mart. The summer after we graduated from junior high, Mark and I would take her car from the parking lot (he had a secret set of keys) and drive it around the neighborhood. I was always anxious that we’d get caught. Once high school started, Vicky, Janice, Mark, and I began playing hooky. We’d go to the girls’ house, watch soap operas and smoke. Home from such a day, I found my mother at the screen door, furious (the school had phoned about my absences). Helpless, I confessed.
We’d just started to play when my mother came in the room. She saw which game it was and made us stop, made Scott take it home. Melanie Brown complained that her mother would give money to any solicitor who rang their doorbell. Mrs. Brown complained that their houseguest, a friend of Melanie’s, used up all the hot water taking long showers. She was separated from Melanie’s father, who was black, a serviceman stationed in Victorville, California. Melanie and I were friendly for a while in high school, but she hurt my feelings when she said that I was a racist because I didn’t know enough black people.