Sad Little Breathing Machine
Book (italiano):
<div>Harvey, whose debut collection was praised by the <i>New Yorker</i> <br>as "intensely visual, mournfully comic and syntactically <br>inventive," offers her second stunning collection<br><br><i>Units are the engines</i><br><i>I understand best.</i><br><br><i>One betrayal, two.</i><br><i>Merrily, merrily, merrily.</i><br>-from "Introduction to the World"<br><br>In <i>Sad Little Breathing Machine</i>, Matthea Harvey explores the strange and intricate mechanics of human systems-of the body, of thought, of language itself. These are the engines, like poetry, that propel both our comprehension and misunderstanding. "If you're lucky," Harvey writes, "after a number of / revolutions, you'll / feel something catch." <br><br>"I pictured myself arriving at an amusement park, only none of the rides are familiar. I considered running away. I could break my neck or be catapulted into the sky. I might never be seen again. It's only poetry, I reminded myself, and climbed on board. I'm tossed and bucked and jabbed and lashed and flipped. I'm having a nearly insane amount of fun, and I don't want it to ever end." --James Tate<br></div> <div>Harvey, whose debut collection was praised by the <i>New Yorker</i> <br>as "intensely visual, mournfully comic and syntactically <br>inventive," offers her second stunning collection<br><br><i>Units are the engines</i><br><i>I understand best.</i><br><br><i>One betrayal, two.</i><br><i>Merrily, merrily, merrily.</i><br>-from "Introduction to the World"<br><br>In <i>Sad Little Breathing Machine</i>, Matthea Harvey explores the strange and intricate mechanics of human systems-of the body, of thought, of language itself. These are the engines, like poetry, that propel both our comprehension and misunderstanding. "If you're lucky," Harvey writes, "after a number of / revolutions, you'll / feel something catch." <br><br>"I pictured myself arriving at an amusement park, only none of the rides are familiar. I considered running away. I could break my neck or be catapulted into the sky. I might never be seen again. It's only poetry, I reminded myself, and climbed on board. I'm tossed and bucked and jabbed and lashed and flipped. I'm having a nearly insane amount of fun, and I don't want it to ever end." --James Tate<br></div>
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