#Jason Shinder

[firstfullmoon]

Jason Shinder, from “The Birthday”

#w #poetry #jason shinder #there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am

[fadedlovemp3]

Birthday Party by Dalton Day / The Party by Jason Shinder / At the Bottom of Everything - Bright Eyes

#idk abt this one...i just rlly like all three of these works and well. birthday party #dalton day #bright eyes #jason shinder #web weaving #parallels

[poem-today]

A poem by Jason Shinder

Eternity

A poem written three thousand years ago

about a man who walks among horses grazing on a hill under the small stars

comes to life on a page in a book

and the woman reading the poem in her kitchen filled with a gold, metallic light

finds the experience of living in that moment

so vividly described as to make her feel known to another; until the woman and the poet share

not only their souls but the exact silence

between each word. And every time the poem is read, no matter her situation or her age,

this is more or less what happens.

Jason Shinder (1955-2008)

#jason shinder #american poetry #eternity

[kitchen-light]

So many poems obfuscate meaning for so many immensely generous reasons — for pleasure or joy or critique or more. But this poem [Jason Shinder's "At Sunset"] knows exactly what it is trying to say — that you must love your death — and knows, too, that what it is trying to say is immensely hard. Is so hard, in fact, that it proves one purpose of poetry: to act as an offering, to place something upon and within us that is not hard to carry, that maybe makes the act of carrying that so many of us experience in life just a little bit lighter.

Devin Kelly, from “Jason Shinder's "At Sunset" | Thoughts on life, death, and attention.”, published March 6, 2022

#devin kelly #quotes #essays #words #found* #on poetry

[nathalywrivera]

If you love someone, the water moves up from the well.

— Jason Shinder

[pendraegon]

[ID of the poem "At Sunset" by Jason Shinder:

Your death must be loved this much.

You have to know the grief—now. / Standing by the water’s edge,

looking down at the wave

touching you. You have to lie, / stiff, arms folded, on a heap of earth

and see how far the darkness

will take you. I mean it, this, now— / before the ghost the cold leaves

in your breath, rises;

before the toes are put together / inside the shoes. There it is—the goddamn

orange-going-into-rose descending

circle of beauty and time. / You have nothing to be sad about.

END ID.]

#poetry #quotes #jason shinder #incunabula

[calyptapis]

Jason Shinder, "Company" from The American Poetry Review, Vol. 37, No. 6 (NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2008)

#jason shinder #poetry #literature #death #loneliness #lit #quotes #quotations #quote #literary quotes #book quotes #poetry quotes #xo

[dk-thrive]

There is no magic for bringing the past back except to burn down your house and find the music box from the summer so long ago.

Jason Shinder, from “Sweet Desolation,” The American Poetry Review (vol. 37, no. 6, November/December 2008) (via Alive on All Channels)

#memory #past #music #music box #recall #Jason Shinder #regret #summer

[lunchboxpoems]

THE PARTY

And that’s how it is; everyone standing up from the big silence of the table with their glasses of certainty and plates of forgiveness and walking into the purple kitchen; everyone leaning away from the gas stove Marie blows on at the very edge of the breaking blue-orange-lunging- forward flames to warm another pot of coffee, while the dishes pile up in the sink, perfect as a pyramid. Aaah, says Donna, closing her eyes, and leaning on Nick’s shoulders as he drives the soft blade of the knife through the glittering dark of the leftover chocolate birthday cake. That’s it; that’s how it is; everyone standing around as if just out of the pool, drying off, standing around, that’s it, standing, talking, shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present before the boat slowly pulls away into the future. Because it hurts to say goodbye, to pull your body out of the warm water; to step out of the pocket of safety, clinging to what you knew, or what you thought you knew about yourself and others. That’s how it is, that’s it, throwing your jacket over your shoulders like a towel and saying goodbye Victoria goodbye Sophie goodbye Lili goodbye sweetie take care be well hang in there see you soon.

JASON SHINDER

#jason shinder #poem #poetry #party poison #the before times

[firstfullmoon]

Jason Shinder, “The Party”

#w #poetry #jason shinder #the number of hours we have together is actually not so large. please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving #ode to friendship

[girlwithlandscape]

“The Party” - Jason Shinder

And that’s how it is; everyone standing up from the big silence of the table with their glasses of certainty and plates of forgiveness and walking into the purple kitchen; everyone leaning away from the gas stove Marie blows on at the very edge of the breaking blue-orange-lunging- forward flames to warm another pot of coffee, while the dishes pile up in the sink, perfect as a pyramid. Aaah, says Donna, closing her eyes, and leaning on Nick’s shoulders as he drives the soft blade of the knife through the glittering dark of the leftover chocolate birthday cake. That’s it; that’s how it is; everyone standing around as if just out of the pool, drying off, standing around, that’s it, standing, talking, shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present before the boat slowly pulls away into the future. Because it hurts to say goodbye, to pull your body out of the warm water; to step out of the pocket of safety, clinging to what you knew, or what you thought you knew about yourself and others. That’s how it is, that’s it, throwing your jacket over your shoulders like a towel and saying goodbye Victoria goodbye Sophie goodbye Lili goodbye sweetie take care be well hang in there see you soon.

#saying goodbye #farewells #the party #jason shinder #parties #poetry #poem #quote #loss #feelings #friendship #only connect #mortality

[poem-today]

A poem by Jason Shinder

Living

Just when it seemed my mother couldn’t bear one more needle, one more insane orange pill, my sister, in silence, stood at the end of the bed and slowly rubbed her feet, which were scratchy with hard, yellow skin, and dirt cramped beneath the broken nails, which changed nothing in time except the way my mother was lost in it for a while as if with a kind of relief that doesn’t relieve. And then, with her eyes closed, my mother said the one or two words the living have for gratefulness, which is a kind of forgetting, with a sense of what it means to be alive long enough to love someone. Thank you, she said. As for me, I didn’t care how her voice suddenly seemed low and kind, or what failures and triumphs of the body and spirit brought her to that point— just that it sounded like hope, stupid hope.

Jason Shinder

(1955-2008)

#jason shinder #american poetry #living #hope

[ashtrayfloors]

2020 Book List

An incomplete list of books I read in 2020 (not counting books I started but haven’t finished yet, or books I reread only sections of, or zines), divided into fiction, non-fiction, and poetry categories. Some of these books are hybrid works, in which case I put them into the category I felt they best fit into. An asterisk means it was a reread. I’ve bolded the ones I particularly loved. I’ve also included links to quotations/excerpts from some of them.

Fiction

Shine of the Ever, by Claire Rudy Foster

A Cathedral of Myth and Bone, by Kat Howard

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong

The Mythic Dream, edited by Dominik Parisien and Navah Wolfe

We Had No Rules, by Corinne Manning

The Faery Reel: Tales from the Twilight Realm, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

In a Lonely Place, by Dorothy B. Hughes

And I Do Not Forgive You: Stories & Other Revenges, by Amber Sparks

The Necrophiliac, by Gabrielle Wittkop

Before and Afterlives, by Christopher Barzak

Finding Baba Yaga: A Short Novel in Verse, by Jane Yolen

Wild Milk, by Sabrina Orah Mark

Nonfiction

Aim and Wish, by A.L. Staveley

Make It Scream, Make It Burn, by Leslie Jamison

After Confession: Poetry as Autobiography, edited by Kate Sontag and David Graham

The Poem That Changed America: “Howl” Fifty Years Later, edited by Jason Shinder

Boss Broad, by Megan Volpert

Go Ahead in the Rain: Notes to a Tribe Called Quest, by Hanif Abdurraqib

A Field Guide to Getting Lost, by Rebecca Solnit*

100 Times: A Memoir of Sexism, by Chavisa Woods

Recollections of My Nonexistence, by Rebecca Solnit

In the Dream House, by Carmen Maria Machado

Erosion: Essays of Undoing, by Terry Tempest Williams

The Thorn Necklace: Healing Through Writing and the Creative Process, by Francesca Lia Block

Tracing the Desire Line: A Memoir in Essays, by Melissa Mathewson

What is the Grass: Walt Whitman in My Life, by Mark Doty

Dancing at the Devil’s Party: Essays on Poetry, Politics, and the Erotic, by Alicia Ostriker

Censorship Now!!, by Ian F. Svenonius

Funny Weather: Art in an Emergency, by Olivia Laing

Madness, Rack, and Honey: Collected Lectures, by Mary Ruefle

The Wet Collection, by Joni Tevis

Black and Blue: The Bruising Passion of Camera Lucida, La Jetee, Sans soleil, and Hiroshima mon amour, by Carol Mavor

In the Blue Pharmacy: Essays on Poetry and Other Transformations, by Marianne Boruch

Jane: A Murder, by Maggie Nelson

Mean, by Myriam Gurba

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer, by Michelle McNamara

Dime-Store Alchemy: The Art of Joseph Cornell, by Charles Simic

Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic, and Power, by Pam Grossman

The Art of Recklessness, by Dean Young

Poetry

An American Sunrise, by Joy Harjo

Stay, by Tanya Olson

Be Recorder, by Carmen Giménez Smith

Soft Targets, by Deborah Landau

No Matter, by Jana Prikryl

The Obliterations, by Matt Hart

Made in Detroit, by Marge Piercy 

Walking Distance, by Debra Allbery

Exploding Chippewas, by Mark Turcotte

Neon Vernacular, by Yusef Komunyakaa

The Jazz Poetry Anthology, edited by Sascha Feinstein and Yusef Komunyakaa

Black Milk, by Tory Dent

A Fortune for Your Disaster, by Hanif Abdurraqib

Witch, by Rebecca Tamás

The Carrying, by Ada Limón

Homie, by Danez Smith

The Wendys, by Allison Benis White

Babel, by Patti Smith*

Alive Together, by Lisel Mueller

Night Sky with Exit Wounds, by Ocean Vuong

Advice from the Lights, by Stephanie Burt

This Is Not a Frank Ocean Cover Album, by Alan Chazaro

Blood on Blood, by Devin Kelly

American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin, by Terrance Hayes

Teahouse of the Almighty, by Patricia Smith

Fantasia for the Man in Blue, by Tommye Blount

Louise in Love, by Mary Jo Bang

Come the Slumberless to the Land of Nod, by Traci Brimhall

The Queer Body Anthology, edited by Yes, Poetry

Wolf Face, by Matt Hart

Living Room, by June Jordan

Trickster Feminism, by Anne Waldman

Here is the Sweet Hand, by Francine J. Harris

Dead Girls, by Francesca Lia Block

Inside the Wolf, by Niamh Boyce

I live in the country & other dirty poems, by Arielle Greenberg

The Death Metal Pastorals, by Ryan Patrick Smith

Bestiary of Gall, by Emilia Phillips

Toxicon and Arachne, by Joyelle McSweeney

Blood Box, by Zefyr Lisowski

Indictus, by Natalie Eilbert

This Is Still Life, by Tracy Mishkin

The Time Unraveller’s Travel Journal, by Upfromsumdirt

Love Poems, by Pablo Neruda

Excerpts from a Secret Prophecy, by Joanna Klink

Sorry for Your Troubles, by Pádraig Ó Tuama

Saranac Lake Ghost Poems, by Maurice Kenny

Light-Headed, by Matt Hart

The Tiny Jukebox, by Nate Slawson

Sham City, by Evan Harrison

Modern and Normal, by Karen Solie

My Tall Handsome, by Emily Corwin

When My Brother Was an Aztec, by Natalie Diaz

Guidebooks for the Dead, by Cynthia Cruz

Dandarians, by Lee Ann Roripaugh

Her book, by Éireann Lorsung

44 Poems for You, by Sarah Ruhl

Imaginary Menagerie, by Ailbhe Darcy

The Girl Aquarium, by Jen Campbell

Still Life with Two Dead Peacocks and a Girl, by Diane Seuss*

War of the Foxes, by Richard Siken

#nomanborn #list #books #2020 #jessie lynn mcmains #things i read

[sophi-aubrey]

I walk the coast of my life again.

And still I don’t know where I am.

Or who is beside me.

© Jason Shinder, Finally, It Comes, Laurel Review

Merci @memoryslandscape for this words

#blue #sea #my illusion