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Amassunu, Poems by Eric Quinn
Amassunu
Amazon.com Amazon.com
Powell's Books Powell's Books

Eric gives an overview of the book:

Poetry is often mentioned as a vehicle for a poet’s exploration of his or her own life. Eric Quinn has taken this motif and run with it: born in Brazil, he offers memories of infancy and titles his book Amassunu, the amerindian word for the Amazon River; raised in Latin America and Europe, he writes of being a child and watching Quetzal birds feed or travelling though a land of witches; living on the eastern seaboard of the United States as an adult, he includes haiku about shoveling snow or struggling with a winter flu. The poet’s sharp concern with political events is captured in such poems as “Jewelry and the Blacksmith,” which contains his reflections on the events and aftermath of 9/11. His abiding interest in the process of poetry is the inspiration for “A Poet’s Truth.” And his love of history lies behind “The Reason of Cities.” Finally, there is an extended...
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Poetry is often mentioned as a vehicle for a poet’s exploration of his or her own life. Eric Quinn has taken this motif and run with it: born in Brazil, he offers memories of infancy and titles his book Amassunu, the amerindian word for the Amazon River; raised in Latin America and Europe, he writes of being a child and watching Quetzal birds feed or travelling though a land of witches; living on the eastern seaboard of the United States as an adult, he includes haiku about shoveling snow or struggling with a winter flu. The poet’s sharp concern with political events is captured in such poems as “Jewelry and the Blacksmith,” which contains his reflections on the events and aftermath of 9/11. His abiding interest in the process of poetry is the inspiration for “A Poet’s Truth.” And his love of history lies behind “The Reason of Cities.” Finally, there is an extended excerpt from his version of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

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The Reason of Cities


1.


Take a stone; break it

shape its scars smooth

lay them one on another


crush it to dust

scatter it over the ground

in silver circles


or knap it like flint—

spreak the flakes

like dead teeth and

burned bone


2.

 

Draw a square

fill it with palms and

the sound of water

 

admit the girls,

their dancing amid

hair that spirals

as the night

or the horns

 

of a ram

tangled

 

in her cloven crown

 

3.

 

Remember the maze

and the womb

the wall as blood

 

gold—and the queen

hung like a lamb

in the cold cave

 

imperious, and staring

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Note from the author coming soon...

About Eric