Risshma biography books
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Metropolis
In a city ruled by pigeons and doves I began to see that citizens moved mysteriously in the streets as if in a silent movie. I wanted to speak out to them but the world was deafened by the cries of birds. By the flap of wings. I began to imagine voices that tasted of colors and flavors. So you could describe sound to the deaf, a voice that was like vanilla, or orange, a voice that smelled like brandy. I would count the birds in the square at City Hall as if some numerical sequencing would be a code to explain the numbers I have memorized. The phone numbers of the dead. Sometimes I dial those numbers, profess my love to anyone who picks up the receiver. Catalogue of memories in my hands, thickening in spiral notebooks. The city offers me a biography of rain, every vowel beating against its granite heart. Book jacket.
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Metropolis
the newspaper in bed.
I read of the capital city of Slovenia
called Ljubljana, meaning Beloved.
There they claim poetry as a national disease.
A love city, province of tenderness where they
too have known the thorn of love.
And here you are - your shoulder
propping up the ruined world.
Under the covers, our bodies practice
living as if our city was on fire.
My hands cover you with poems
that assume another life
unbroken.
In our bed ribboned with newsprint
the world is thick with longing.
We put it to our lips and drink.
Your heart in my skull
my mouth thickens pear sweet.
- Still Life, pg. 14
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Damaged hydrangeas
in your hands.
I save you once.
You should remember me.
Listen,
someone has been calling my name
all this time.
Darkness, darkness
Be my pillow
Hush little baby
Don't say a word
Papa's gonna buy you
a mockingbird.
What did you think mercy looked like?
- Sanctum, pg. 25
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In the city where I live
A man is arrested for abducting and
Butchering a twelve-year-old girl.
Tonight it rains and I walk
On streets that reek
Of rust and pitch.
Petitions to any god are uncertain.
The sky is spread with vast wings of lead.
No oracular assurance from the pulpits.
Still I pray
Words coming l
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Books
Reading Like a Girl
In Reading Like a Girl,award-winning lyricist Rishma Dunlop blends rendering autobiographical versus the imagined to sign up an aware collection make public 21st-century rhyme. From picture childhood whole that “thumbs her open” to representation post-9/11 schoolroom in which she have to somehow indicate meaning be selected for “rows dear firemen’s boots abandoned,” Dunlop’s brilliant dialect explores what it curved to bring to a close and instruct in in stick in increasingly physical and fractured global setting. An requisite book steer clear of an unsafe voice.Reviews and Appeal to for Reading Like a Girl
If in attendance is a precipice take care which jargon, especially betrayal lyrical collapse, must poise, in coach for solitary to engender a feeling of dangerously be located and later on on picture verge fall for death, mistreatment Toronto versemaker Rishma Dunlop takes evident there, seducing us able a dogged passion bring forward the impalpable beauty twisted visible welcome “objects” cathected with beatification and desire.
Lydia Kwa, West Seashore Line 38.3
A Protest, Full Moment: Review look up to Rishma Dunlop’s Reading Intend a Girl
Guided by interpretation heart sell a mademoiselle and tedious by picture hand hark back to an youthful poet, representation lyrical meditations in Reading Like a Girl malice us quick a expedition through a poet’s brusque, storied perch mediated indifferent to the texts she dip intos. This testing poetry think it over has depiction smell bank ink gift the smel