In Defense of Puppets PDF ☆ In Defense PDF or

  • Paperback
  • 98 pages
  • In Defense of Puppets
  • Anthony DiMatteo
  • English
  • 11 April 2016
  • 9781938853951

3 thoughts on “In Defense of Puppets

  1. says:

    This collection of poems reads like it came from everyday life yet worded beautifully Many times I found myself nodding connecting with the themes and issues DiMatteo addresses in his work The language is accessible and yet it conjures up a depth of imagery on par with other top notch poets Reading a poem from this collection is like having that moment of reflection we all intend to take but never seem to have time for Even those new to poetry or readers who don't see themselves as poetry fans will find a lot to like here Anthony DiMatteo is in many ways Everybody's Poet writing in an inclusive style leaving no one behind What one gets from these poems will vary from reader to reader and the poet shows incredible range DiMatteo says what we feel in those fleeting critical moments of our lives but does so in a way few of us are capable of Take a moment to read a sample of this book The first poem 'Phoning the Dead' strikes a penetrating chord of memory and loss and sets the tone for this collection After that 'Still' and 'The Republic of the Universe' stand out and each poem connects like a wire to the next; a continuous circuit that grows in strength with each light in the string creating a luminous volume of real life

  2. says:

    I want to tell you the sun is a rose Light is its scent A deeply felt careful collection from Anthony DiMatteo who examines life and its many responsibilities through a loving and tender lens

  3. says:

    We are the publisher so all of our authors get five stars from us ExcerptsAFTERLIVESIt’s a bad time for home and countryA war goes on everywhere and nowhereI’m thumbing through a rare facsimilecopy of Americana in the form of a bluenotebook Whitman kept whose hopenear guttered out during the Civil WarIt was his gift to us given me by my first wifetwo dusty blue volumes in a blue caseHand of fate drops out from onein the form of a photograph taken of meby a stranger on a traghetto to CapriPetting a dog that looks just like our dogI wear the ribbed T shirt I wore to bedlast night not worn in fifteen years sinceMy left hand in the picture and lifeis scraped below the index fingerCut by coincidence or stroke of fate?I think of loved ones no longer hereand though I know any ghostmimics me it’s as if a curtainflutters or a book opens and somevoice tells me to laugh and forgiveto feel the wild joy the universe makesin the form of a wake as it passesby us into and out of our livesBLACK DAY April 20 1989For me that Thursday the hundredthanniversary of Hitler’s birth provedblacker than any night I had knownIt was the day after the Central Park joggerwas left for dead the alleged black malesno than a bunch of boys My sisterabout to graduate from a Catholic collegewanted them hanged even after their ageswere disclosed She made this big gestureI could not control my tongue brokethe silence of a parliament of headsnodding in agreement “But they’reonly wild kids maybe and you wantstrange fruit in the park? Is thisthe fruit of your education?” I asked“How dare you” she said Our father stood up“So if they had raped your sisterYou’d—what?—let them livethere in the group home with you right?What kind of a man are you?You’re my fruitcake for a son”My mother tried to calm my fatherand brother down “Please go now”she said to me “let’s not have trouble”“Have a nice day everyone”I said not uite at the topof my lungs On the drive homeI lost the road when the moonrose bravely in the nightHow little the void between starswhen compared to glaring spacebetween thoughts the inky lusterof a pool where souls are drownedwhere a garden of death takes rootand a tree offers its blackening fruitMy car veered onto the shoulderslipping down a bank of fatal thoughtsand their highways their myriadbranches that shadow us togetherhang us down from the skywhite then gray clouds turning blackIf there is such a thing as the rootof evil I’d have to spit it outof my own mouth I’d haveto hunt down the very taste of itin everything I eat the scent of itin everyone I love Do I havethe strength to resist the sleeknessof its alluring crush uponmy palette at the very tablewhere I break bread the flowersof its wiliness words that cook lifein the slow simmer of a blind sun?Forgive us O sun of the morningshould we forget to bless your daily racedifferent in kind from our rat raceKeep us from despairbenighted by the love of itYour light makes all mankind shimmerthough we hide behind a skinmade of mind you cannot burn

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In Defense of Puppets An urgent uestion drives this book what is it to speak for another Technology today often makes us feel as if we can speak for or as another But this is an illusion It is crucial that we remain seriously and playfully alert to the active role our imaginings have in the shaping of what we think we know of ourselves and others Poetry is vital to raising this awareness “Art is puppet like” the poet Paul Celan observed This collection of poems some in formal some in free verse explores the ironies humor emotions and visions produced by such multifaceted puppetry its pleasures and dangers its role in both grief and joy in experience and recollection