Deepstep come shining

DEEPSTEP COME SHINING is a single long poem based loosely on a road trip through the rural South, in which mythology merges with geography and "language is on the page half-pulled out of earth and rivers--still holding onto the truth of the elements"--Michael Ondaatje. Wright teaches at Brown University and edits Lost Roads Publishers Rebellious and fiercely lyrical, the poems of C.D. Wright incorporate elements of disjunction and odd juxtaposition in their exploration of unfolding context.'In my book,'she writes,'poetry is a necessity of life. It is a function of poetry to locate those zones inside us that would be free, and declare them so.'C.D. Wright was born and raised in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas. She has received numerous awards for her work, including grants from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Guggenheim Foundation, the American Academy and Institute for Arts and Letters, and the Lila Wallace-Reader's Digest Foundation. She teaches at Brown University in Rhode Island.'Expertly elliptical phrasings, and an uncounterfeitable, generous feel for real people, bodies and places, have lately made Wright one of America's oddest, best and most appealing poets. Her tenth book consists of a single long poem whose sentences, segments and prose-blocks weave loosely around and about, and grow out of, a road trip through the rural South. Clipped twangs, lyrical ‘goblets of magnolialight,'and recurrent, mysterious, semi-allegorical figures like ‘the snakeman'and ‘the boneman'share space with place names, lexicographies, exhortations and wacky graffiti (‘God is Louise').... cherish Wright's latest ‘once-and-for-all thing, opaque and revelatory, ceaselessly burning.''—Publishers Weekly'For me, C.D. Wright's poetry is river gold.'Love whatever flows.'Her language is on the page half pulled out of earth and rivers—still holding onto the truth of the elements. I love her voice and pitch and the long snaky arms of her language that is willing to hold everything—human and angry and beautiful.'—Michael Ondaatje'C.D. Wright is entirely her own poet, a true original.'—The Gettysburg Review

A spectacular new collection by one of the most exciting and distinctive poets currently writing.

Publishers Weekly

Expertly elliptical phrasings, and an uncounterfeitable, generous feel for real people, bodies and places, have lately made Wright one of America's oddest, best and most appealing poets. Her tenth book consists of a single long poem whose sentences, segments and prose-blocks weave loosely around and about, and grow out of, a road trip through the rural South. Clipped twangs, lyrical goblets of magnolialight, and recurrent, mysterious, semi-allegorical figures like the snakeman and the boneman share space with place names, lexicographies, exhortations and wacky graffiti (God is Louise). Wright alternates private references with clear allusions, as when images of eye enucleations and glass eyes culminate in a flurry of bits from King Lear. Deepstep teems with wry, rich sentences no one else could have written: I left my chicory-blue swimsuit back at the motel where the baseball team cannonballed us out of the pool. She leaps exhilaratingly among verbal registers--from kenatoprosthesis to trailer skirt, from Arkansas toe and pinball to Ultima Thule. And she loves double meanings--Morning glories. What's yours. Her uncharacteristically extroverted, ethnographic project also shows her sense of humor--Her Aunt Flo said she hadn't had any in so long she'd done growed back together. In sorting these glittering, interlocking fragments of self-conscious Southern poetry, preposterous as a wedding dress, some readers will wish Wright had included notes, or explained her extensive back story; but no one will need more information to cherish Wright's latest once-and-for-all thing, opaque and revelatory, ceaselessly burning. (Sept.)

Rebellious and fiercely lyrical, the poems of C.D. Wright incorporate elements of disjunction and odd juxtaposition in their exploration of unfolding context. "In my book," she writes, "poetry is a necessity of life. It is a function of poetry to locate those zones inside us that would be free, and declare them so."