Crow Ink by Sharon Auberle, 2007
You may be forgiven if you haven’t read Sharon Auberle’s first three books of poetry, (A Green Absolution, Sanctuary, and A Necklace of Birds) because you may not have known what a writer she is, may not even have known of the books’ existence. If, however, you fail to get your hands on a copy of Crow Ink, don’t say you weren’t informed.
Auberle is a poet who divides her time between a green peninsula of Wisconsin and the arid mountains of Arizona, between the teen-ager in her heart and the somewhat more mature body she inhabits, and between having her feet on the ground and taking to her wings, which only the most blind among us cannot see. In all this, she shows us the connectedness we share with the natural world (and, possibly, the supernatural), she floats comfortably in this foggy patch between past and future, and records her heart’s journey in an unashamedly romantic way.
In “Heron In Winter”, we can sense a little of Lucinda Williams’ sentiment as Auberle tells of a great bird stepping out onto thin ice, “. . .
. . .a connection in the season
when bird and woman
must leave safe ground, . . .
. . . it’s what we have to do
sometimes, to survive.
The sky is a mirror
beneath our long legs
but oh, beautiful sister,
where will you sleep tonight?
I mentioned, earlier, that she shows us our connection to nature and time, but it goes far beyond that for Sharon, who appears to be at the very center of it. For instance, in “Today On The Rocks” . . .
. . . listen:
one day you’ll be part of all this
and what binds you now
who makes you weep
will not even be a memory.
What will remain is this:
a flash of déjà vu, perhaps,
between strangers
a vague yearning in them for water
their joy in a river of stars
a rock pattern, the light on a wing
they stop to watch, translucent
as it catches the morning sun.
If you have grown weary of poetry that takes concerted deciphering only to learn that it means nothing at all, I must heartily recommend that you make the switch; go over to Crow Ink. To get your copy, contact Sharon Auberle at sea_poet@msn.com . (that’s sea underdash poet.)
“But, wait a minute,” I hear you saying, “isn’t that YOUR art work on the cover of the book?” Why, yes it is, thank you. “And isn’t Sharon Auberle a friend of yours?” Why, yes she is. “Well then why . . .” I see – why should you believe what I say about the merits of this book? – because it happens to be true.
- Ralph Murre
You may be forgiven if you haven’t read Sharon Auberle’s first three books of poetry, (A Green Absolution, Sanctuary, and A Necklace of Birds) because you may not have known what a writer she is, may not even have known of the books’ existence. If, however, you fail to get your hands on a copy of Crow Ink, don’t say you weren’t informed.
Auberle is a poet who divides her time between a green peninsula of Wisconsin and the arid mountains of Arizona, between the teen-ager in her heart and the somewhat more mature body she inhabits, and between having her feet on the ground and taking to her wings, which only the most blind among us cannot see. In all this, she shows us the connectedness we share with the natural world (and, possibly, the supernatural), she floats comfortably in this foggy patch between past and future, and records her heart’s journey in an unashamedly romantic way.
In “Heron In Winter”, we can sense a little of Lucinda Williams’ sentiment as Auberle tells of a great bird stepping out onto thin ice, “. . .
. . .a connection in the season
when bird and woman
must leave safe ground, . . .
. . . it’s what we have to do
sometimes, to survive.
The sky is a mirror
beneath our long legs
but oh, beautiful sister,
where will you sleep tonight?
I mentioned, earlier, that she shows us our connection to nature and time, but it goes far beyond that for Sharon, who appears to be at the very center of it. For instance, in “Today On The Rocks” . . .
. . . listen:
one day you’ll be part of all this
and what binds you now
who makes you weep
will not even be a memory.
What will remain is this:
a flash of déjà vu, perhaps,
between strangers
a vague yearning in them for water
their joy in a river of stars
a rock pattern, the light on a wing
they stop to watch, translucent
as it catches the morning sun.
If you have grown weary of poetry that takes concerted deciphering only to learn that it means nothing at all, I must heartily recommend that you make the switch; go over to Crow Ink. To get your copy, contact Sharon Auberle at sea_poet@msn.com . (that’s sea underdash poet.)
“But, wait a minute,” I hear you saying, “isn’t that YOUR art work on the cover of the book?” Why, yes it is, thank you. “And isn’t Sharon Auberle a friend of yours?” Why, yes she is. “Well then why . . .” I see – why should you believe what I say about the merits of this book? – because it happens to be true.
- Ralph Murre
No comments:
Post a Comment