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*Download Kindle ⚞ The Road In Is Not the Same Road Out: Poems Ä Winner of the Latner Writers Trust Poetry PrizeA profound new collection from one of poetry s rising stars Introducing Karen Solie, I would adapt what Joseph Brodsky said some thirty years ago of the great Les Murray He is, quite simply, the one by whom the language lives And, yes, as we embark on the third millennium of our so called Common Era, she is indeed the one by whom the language lives Michael Hofmann, London Review of BooksA sublime singer of existential bewilderment, Karen Solie is one of contemporary poetry s most direct and haunting voices A poet of the in between places the purgatory of wayside motels and junkyards, the abandoned Calgary ski jump and the eternal noon of Walmart her poems stake out startlingly new territory and are songs for our emerging world, an age of uncertainty and melting icebergs In Solie s new collection, The Road In Is Not the Same Road Out, she restlessly excavates our civilization, the moments of tough luck, casual violence, naked desire, and inchoate menace, pursuing Beauty and terror in equal measure and fixing on the Intrigue of a boarded up building We want to get in there and find out what s the matter with it Amplifying the elegant recklessness of her Griffin Poetry Prize winning collection Pigeon, these poems bear an uncanny poetic intelligence and unflinching vision I ve loved solie s other collections and I really wanted to love this one but it felt distancing and difficult to parse There are a few poems in here that I loved very much Your News Hour is now Two Hours, Interior, All that is certain is that night lasts longer than the day, Spiral But for the most part I felt restless and unengaged and while Solie has an incredibly sharp wit that turns lines into unexpected smiles of recognition, a lot of it is just too erudite for me I guess. Astoundingly fresh landscape poems for this landscape we actually live in strip malls, construction sites, commuter traffic jams, etc Very highly recommended. I know what I want and what I want makes me weak Before the world destroys us, it confirms our suspicions As if I were a wall, a former life walks through me, each modest architectural feature an anthology of meanings to which painthas been applied And each of us absolutely wasted, in our own way. One of my favorite poets Her mind works in mysterious ways Standouts Fables of the Recontruction When Asked Why He d Been Talking To Himself Museum of the Thing Keebleville Birth of the Rifle Darklands Bitumen Against Lyric.