Dark Energy (Penguin Poets)

Dark Energy (Penguin Poets)

Robert Morgan

Language: English

Pages: 27

ISBN: 014312806X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


A new collection from the awardwinning poet and author of the bestselling novel Gap Creek

In the words of Poetry magazine, Robert Morgan’s poems “shine with beauty that transcends locale.” The work in his newest collection, rooted in his native Blue Ridge Mountains, explores the mysteries and tensions of family and childhood, the splendors and hidden dramas of the natural world, and the agriculture that supports all culture. Morgan’s voice is vigorous and exact, opening doors for the reader, finding unexpected images and connections. The poems reach beyond surfaces, to the strange forces inside atoms, our genes, our heritage, and outward to the farthest movements of galaxies, the dark energy we cannot explain but recognize in our bones and blood, in our deepest memories and imagination.

Pictures of Fidelman

The Mansion (Snopes Trilogy, Book 3)

Moby-Dick (Signet Classics)

Yellow birds

Four Classic American Novels: The Scarlet Letter, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Red Badge of Courage, Billy Budd

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus (Penguin Christmas Classics)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

raised so tall a human felt no more than mouse or rabbit trapped within the cage of stalks. But hunters found a spark set to the cane would send a whoosh of flame through canopy in riot that would leave a ghost of ashy curls across the acres, and soon the brakes were just a scar and then a memory, and then not even that, as vanished as the pigeon, panther, painted face. Carpet Tacking Back when whole communities gathered to raise a barn, shuck corn, kill hogs, shell peas, or spread

ghosts of ancient prophets on this height so far above the fertile flats, the vapors bright as angel wings in fever dreams. Therefore this summit’s at best a farm for dreaming. Clockwork The sleet is fine as jewels in a watch and clicks on leaves almost as regular as ticks inside a fancy timepiece, and snowflakes spin their interlocking gears. Time’s arrow seems to point into the clouds and whitened ground appears to levitate. The seconds count off yet another year advancing toward

the peaks were talking to each other in the idiom that mountains use across the mighty distances, with giant syllables and rests. White hunters feared it might be guns or even cannon natives had somehow acquired to warn them from the better hunting grounds and streams, the blasts as loud as thunder on the clearest days and coldest nights. Geologists would later hold the groans and barks inside the ridge were shelves of massive, restless rock that slipped or dropped far down within

the mountain’s guts, a fracture or a crashing at some fault as part of the tectonic conversation among the continents as old as planet earth or starry birth, the gossip of creation’s work. Big Bone Lick At Big Bone Lick the first explorers found skeletons of elephants they said, found ribs of woolly mammoths, tusks of mastodons and ribs of sloths that lurched across Kentucky once near twenty feet from snout to tail. They dug out teeth the size of bricks and skulls of giant bison,

untouched, unrecognized, except it leaves a blink of sparkle in the dark of stillest water tank in cave or mine, too faint and quick to monitor but for the instant glints it strikes, creation’s tracks that flick and disappear. We never actually see one, just winks where it has gone. Dark Energy It’s odd to think that empty space between the stars and galaxies produces a repulsive force, that emptiness will push away all matter it encounters with some kind of antigravity. For

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