Select Poems Tragedies

Excerpt from Select Poems and Tragedies I was holding him fast by the bridle, In knots stood each muscle and vein, My brow was all lined with my efforts His headlong career to restrain. A horse of a glorious lineage, Astarte-like born of the foam, Daily fed from Aurora's bright chalice, Brought straight from her own starry home. A steed mighty and grand in his movements, Untamable, bounding on high, Ever filling, with resonant neighings, The vault of the deep, azure sky. To heaven each genius his bowl lifts, And kindling his torch from the sky, On the back of this wonderful monster Is seated and borne up on high. All thy poets and prophets in order Thou knowest, O earth, by the scars Of the burnings received from his harness Which shineth all over with stars. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

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Here in the authorized translation by James Graham-Luján and Richard L. O'Connell, with an illuminating biographical introduction by the poet's brother, Francisco García Lorca, are three tragic dramas by the great modern Spanish poet and playwright which have caught the imagination and won the critical acclaim of the literate world.

Aphrodite of Kypris [fragment 941] -- On Eros and Aphrodite [Antigone 781-800] -- Eros, impossible to thwart [fragment 684] -- The mighty Kyprian [Trakhiniai 498-530] -- On man [Antigone 332-75] -- The human lot [fragments]* -- On song [fragment 568] -- What Sophokles wrote on women was preserved by men [fragments]* -- Fragments of Thamyras -- On sleep [Philoktetes 828-32] -- The chorus plead for divine aid against plague [151-215] -- But what does the seer Teiresias prove against Oidipous? [463-511] -- On purity, insolence, and punishment [863-910] -- A dance of hope [1086-1109] -- Oidipous the cursed [1186-1222] -- On the long life of Oidipous [Oidipous at Kolônos 1211-48] -- On fate and the last of the family [Antigone 582-625] -- Oidipous on the passage of time [Oidipous at Kolônos 607-23] -- On behalf of Oidipous [Oidipous at Kolônos 1556-78] -- In praise of Kolônos [Oidipous at Kolônos 668-719] -- The fullness of the world [fragments]* -- The sea [fragments]* -- To Dionysos [Antigone 1115-52] -- On the madness of Aias [Aias 596-645] -- Aias's meditation before suicide [Aias 646-85] -- On the afflicted Philoktetes [Philoktetes 169-90] -- On Herakles [Trakhiniai 94-140].

This edition of I Use to Fall Down: 50 + 25 + 25 Selected Poems contains all of the fifty (50) original poems that first appeared in the original chap book of the same name plus twenty-five (25) pieces that first appeared in Letters to Osama: Old and New Musings on Foreign and Domestic Terrorism...And Other Matters with an additional twenty-five new poems. The original chap book was a labor of love, having comprised many of the pieces which appeared in the book during the Amadou Diallo trial of four New York City police officers charged with this young unarmed African male's murder. The murder was senseless, but the trial was a travesty of justice, a mockery of both the justice system in America (and specifically how it relates to people of color) and Black people in general (and very specifically to black men in particular). The trial was to put Amadou (ergo black people/black men) on trial and to make whites see that black people are just guilty, guilty of being the wrong color. So, I had written one, and sometimes more than one, poem per day during the duration of the trial, which began at the end of January and primarily took place during February. What is sort of ironic, and lends credence to my position about racism in this country, is that Amadou was shot and killed in the month of February, which is Black History Month, and his trial was conducted and ended in the month of February, again, Black History Month. Amadou was found guilty and his murderers went free, innocent of all charges. Tragic, but this oftentimes is justice for blacks in America. In addition to writing all those poems during Black History Month, about the trial (and I had been working nearly two doors down from the very courthouse at the time), I hit on the idea of putting a few of the trial poems and others that I had written into a chap book that I would sell locally, but the chap book would primarily be for me, something to have in my personal library, a monument to Amadou (and others), a testament for Black America. I worked on a computer at the local public library, drafting each page and getting my printouts from the reference desk librarians. After doing all that work, the manuscript was ready to be printed into book format by a local Kinkos. Amazingly, once I actually had a few books in my hand, one of the very librarians who had been working at the times I was in and had helped with getting my printed pages for me, offered to buy a few copies of this very chapbook, putting one in the local archives and about three in general circulation. The library even hosted a reading for me. I am very proud of the chap book (and I had done about three others prior to this one), which has gone through several versions of both the cover and the very style of the book, and this is why I'm making it available again for readers. A few of the poems would later in appear in Letters to Osama..., my first major publication of my work, which I am also very proud of. This new version of I Use to Fall Down now has a new and exciting cover design, twenty-five poems from Letters to Osama..., and some new poems about everything from deaths of celebrities to politics and wars. There is humor, sadness, "revenge-writing," and plain anger at people, places, and things. Being misanthropic is just not easy. I hope that readers will both come away from my work having learned something and enjoyed the way I attempted to present the message.

The way pine needles speak their sibilants to the green/ pecans, Van K. Brocks LIGHTERED speaks to me. The books title refers to highly combustible, sap-rich pine, and his poems suffused with a strong sense of public and private history, Dixie-haunted, world-struck sizzle and snap on the tongue and in the mind. Brock knows how to brush just enough strangeness into our speech to make it song and to make it last. Hes been to the sacred wood and brought back fire. R T SmithVan K. Brock is a poet to cherish and read! for his sense (wisdom) and skill in bringing the secrets of our time to us without spoiling the mystery. These lightered poems give brief strong light to family tragedies, evidence of ancient, too-present crime. And there are folktunes here, much music in the words for dancing, the washing screaming to be hung "in the sun like saved sinners." Michael MottScholarship, love of nature and family, the honoring through poetry of art, music, and travel, indignant witnessing to historys evil absurdities these and many other passions assure the power of Brocks chromatics. He hears even the shards of mosaics as songs that awaken epiphanies, and theres grief in his poems that we are too often fragmentary man, with some parts perhaps the most essential for our humanity unfinished. Ive followed his work for years. I value this up-to-date definitive collection. David Ray

It took so long to bring this book to print. I don't quite know why. I think maybe a few people had to die first. What I know now is that for a long time I stopped myself from getting my poetry out into the big, blue world because I followed the internal rule that I learned in my family, which was "this doesn't go outside the family." Since most of my writing was about my family this presented a conundrum. It took many years to break this rule and I still fight it almost every time I sit down to write. The book's grand themes: Death, Loss, Divorce, Bad Relationships, Toxic Family Issues, Addiction & My Catholic Upbringing. And, before you say "Wow, what a bummer," you need to know that I write with great humor and grace. That's what they say about me anyway. I like to think my work tragic and comic in the Irish tradition. Or, as my good friend, W.B. Yeats wrote, "Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy." Just change "he" to "she" and that should explain a great deal of my world view. My work has been compared to Sharon Olds, Hal Sirowitz and David Sedaris. I'm not making that up. It really has been compared to those writers. Enough! Read a few of my poems and judge for yourself.

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