The Second Sex by Michael Robbins

By Michael Robbins

A moment assortment from a poet of 'sheer pleasure and dizzy command' - The big apple Times)

Upon its booklet in 2012, Alien vs. Predator, the debut assortment by way of Michael Robbins, turned one of many preferred and such a lot celebrated works of poetry within the nation, profitable approval for its startling freshness and originality, and best critics to claim that it was once the main most likely ebook in years to open up poetry to a brand new readership.

Robbins's poems are unusual, terrific, wild, and irrationally exuberant, mashing up low and high tradition with 'a sky-blue originality of utterance' (The ny Times). The thirty-six new poems in The moment intercourse carry over the track, angle, hilarity, and vulgarity of Alien vs. Predator, whereas additionally operating deeper autobiographical and political veins.

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Sample text

Don’t tell me that he went up in smoke like Daddy’s cigar! He didn’t blow out like a match! It is special being here at Easter with the Cross they built like a capital T. The ceiling is an upside-down rowboat. I usually count its ribs. Maybe he was drowning? Or maybe we are all upside down? I can see the face of a mouse inside of all that stained-glass window. Well, it could be a mouse! Once I thought the Bunny Rabbit was special and I hunted for eggs. That’s when I was seven. Now it’s really Jesus.

Later, after the party, after the house went to bed, I sat up drinking the Christmas brandy, watching your picture, letting the tree move in and out of focus. The bulbs vibrated. They were a halo over your forehead. But you did not move. I continued to watch, forcing myself, waiting, inexhaustible, thirty-five. I wanted your eyes, like the shadows of two small birds, to change. But they did not age. The smile that gathered me in, all wit, all charm, was invincible. Hour after hour I looked at your face but I could not pull the roots out of it.

Maybe he was only hiding? Maybe he could fly? Yesterday I found a purple crocus blowing its way out of the snow. It was all alone. It was getting its work done. Maybe Jesus was only getting his work done and letting God blow him off the Cross and maybe he was afraid for a minute so he hid under the big stones. He was smart to go to sleep up there even though his mother got so sad and let them put him in a cave. I sat in a tunnel when I was five. That tunnel, my mother said, went straight into the big river and so I never went again.

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