978-1-934103-74-6
Kate Greenstreet author photo
  • Series: 79
  • ISBN-13: 978-1-934103-74-6
  • ISBN-10: 1-934103-74-8
  • Pages: 176
  • Price: $20.00

The End of Something

Kate Greenstreet

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In curating cartography together with lyric, poly-vocality with loneliness, and even the unspeakable with common speech, poet and artist Kate Greenstreet has created a surprising hybrid with The End of Something.  The intimacy in Greenstreet’s partial narratives and slow admissions contrasts with much of what we consume as Americans, which is fleeting and feigns being “factual.” The lines “He wasn’t born blind. / He had witnessed / an accident. // They were boys, / they were vulnerable. / That didn’t make them good,” are as haunting as they are haunted by the reader’s conjecture. The omissions of this poem are neither withholding nor do they offer pieces of a solvable puzzle; this text instead reaches for the multitudes within its signs, loads them with context, and then lets the reader democratically construct an experience and emotional response. The last of Greenstreet’s four-book series questioning how an artist can show “the inner life,” The End of Something asserts a conclusion without actually pulling its doors completely shut. As Rick Meier said of Greenstreet’s previous book, Young Tambling, “This book doesn’t want you to understand it so much as to begin talking back to it”—something that might well be seen as the larger purpose of all Greenstreet’s work. end end end end

 

“I love Kate Greenstreet’s poems for their intelligence, humor, and originality, and most of all for what Virginia Woolf called ‘the depth at which the option is taken.’” —Jean Valentine

39. What Falls from the Sky

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I understood certain words.

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The word for why.

The word for always.

The word for speak.

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That the truth means

what is going to happen. Or

what I must do.

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We drink it down: “To death!”

He put the blanket on my head.

He said, “Sometimes, I think

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you just want to disappear.”

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Copyright © 2017 by Kate Greenstrreet

Kate Greenstreet author photoAt the start of 2013, when Young Tambling was published, Max and I returned to the States from Ireland. We began a year on the road, basically one long book tour, with no idea where we'd go after that. We wound up in a former textile mill on the border of Maine and New Hampshire. I didn’t come here to write a book. Mostly I wanted to answer the question “Am I still a painter?” This morning I’m sitting at our plywood table, looking out at the tops of trees. It’s May 2017 and we’re still in New Hampshire, still listening to the river. I didn’t think I’d be here for so long. Across the room, the pages of The End of Something are taped up: a rectangle 38 inches high, 192 wide. The sun rises over the trees and throws a window shape of light onto the wall.

About twelve years ago, I took part in Lance Phillips’ project Here Comes Everybody. When he asked how I’d explain to his seven-year-old what a poem is, I said that making up a poem is a way to share a secret without telling it. Sometime during the years of making The End of Something, I began to see it as the conclusion to my first three books. I won’t be touring with this one—that’s a big change for me. When the book comes out, instead of giving readings I’ll offer a few alternatives at theendofsomething.com. I hope you’ll stop by.