Modernist Women Poets: An Anthology

Modernist Women Poets: An Anthology

Language: English

Pages: 208

ISBN: 1619021102

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The 20th century was a time of great change, particularly in the arts, but seldom explored were the female poets of that time. Robert Hass and Paul Ebenkamp have put together a comprehensive anthology of poetry featuring the poems of Gertrude Stein, Lola Ridge, Amy Lowell, Elsa Von Freytag-Loringhoven, Adelaide Crapsey, Angelina Weld Grimke, Anne Spencer, Mina Loy, Hazel Hall, Hilda Doolittle, Marianne Moore, Djuna Barnes, and Hildegarde Flanner. With an introduction from Hass and Ebenkamp, as well as detailed annotation through out to guide the reader, this wonderful collection of poems will bring together the great female writers of the modernist period as well as deconstruct the language and writing that surfaced during that period.

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along the paths, And he would stumble after, Bewildered by my laughter. I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles on his shoes. I would choose To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths, A bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover. Till he caught me in the shade, And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me, Aching, melting, unafraid. With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops, And the plopping of the waterdrops, All

hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the colour from the petals like spilt dye from a rock. If I could break you I could break a tree. If I could stir I could break a tree— I could break you. II O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air— fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes. Cut the heat— plough through it, turning it on either side of your

world-old want in their eyes— Hurt hot eyes that do not sleep enough . . . Striving with infinite effort, Frustrate yet ever pursuing The great white Liberty, Trailing her dissolving glory over each hard-won barricade— Only to fade anew . . . Egos crying out of unkempt deeps And wavering their dreams like flags— Multi-colored dreams, Winged and glorious . . . A gas jet throws a stunted flame, Vaguely illumining the groping faces. And through the uncurtained window Falls the waste

trundling home the pushcarts. IX A sallow dawn is in the sky As I enter my little green room. Sadie’s light is still burning . . . Without, the frail moon Worn to a silvery tissue, Throws a faint glamour on the roofs, And down the shadowy spires Lights tip-toe out . . . Softly as when lovers close street doors. Out of the Battery A little wind Stirs idly—as an arm Trails over a boat’s side in dalliance— Rippling the smooth dead surface of the heat, And Hester street, Like a

A BLIND GLASS. A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange a single hurt color and an arrangement in a system to pointing. All this and not ordinary, not unordered in not resembling. The difference is spreading. GLAZED GLITTER. Nickel, what is nickel, it is originally rid of a cover. The change in that is that red weakens an hour. The change has come. There is no search. But there is, there is that hope and that interpretation and sometime, surely any is unwelcome, sometime

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