Synopses & Reviews
From An Explanation of America:
LAIR
Robert Pinsky
Inexhaustible, delicate, as if
Without source or medium, daylight
Undoes the mind; the infinite,
Empty actual is too bright,
Scattering to where the road
Whispers, through a mile of woods ...
Later, how quiet the house is:
Dusk-like and refined,
The sweet Phoebe-note
Piercing from the trees;
The calm globe of the morning,
Things to read or to write
Ranged on a table; the brain
A dark, stubborn current that breathes
Blood, a deaf wadding,
The hands feeding it paper
And sensations of wood or metal
On its own terms. Trying to read
I persist a while, finish the recognition
By my breath of a dead giant's breath--
Stayed by the space of a rhythm,
Witnessing the blue gulf of the air.
Review
"[An] ambitious and immensely likable long poem...a poem which a rare thing seems to combine intimacy and authority." The New York Times Book Review
Review
"Wise and compassionate....It is one of the most readable long poems in recent memory, graspable by all." Los Angeles Times
Review
"I can't imagine anyone who, after reading An Explanation of America, wouldn't want to return to it again and again." William H. Pritchard, Poetry
Synopsis
From An Explanation of America
LAIR
Robert Pinsky
Inexhaustible, delicate, as if
Without source or medium, daylight
Undoes the mind; the infinite,
Empty actual is too bright,
Scattering to where the road
Whispers, through a mile of woods
Later, how quiet the house is:
Dusk-like and refined,
The sweet Phoebe-note
Piercing from the trees;
The calm globe of the morning,
Things to read or to write
Ranged on a table; the brain
A dark, stubborn current that breathes
Blood, a deaf wadding,
The hands feeding it paper
And sensations of wood or metal
On its own terms. Trying to read
I persist a while, finish the recognition
By my breath of a dead giant's breath--
Stayed by the space of a rhythm,
Witnessing the blue gulf of the air.
"
Synopsis
From An Explanation of America:
LAIR
Robert Pinsky
Inexhaustible, delicate, as if
Without source or medium, daylight
Undoes the mind; the infinite,
Empty actual is too bright,
Scattering to where the road
Whispers, through a mile of woods ...
Later, how quiet the house is:
Dusk-like and refined,
The sweet Phoebe-note
Piercing from the trees;
The calm globe of the morning,
Things to read or to write
Ranged on a table; the brain
A dark, stubborn current that breathes
Blood, a deaf wadding,
The hands feeding it paper
And sensations of wood or metal
On its own terms. Trying to read
I persist a while, finish the recognition
By my breath of a dead giant's breath--
Stayed by the space of a rhythm,
Witnessing the blue gulf of the air.
About the Author
Robert Pinsky, who served as Poet Laureate of the United States, 1997-2000, is the author of many books. He is Professor of English and Creative Writing at Boston University.