By Jewel Kilcher
I have realized that now not all poetry lends itself to song -- a few recommendations must be sung basically opposed to the silence. There are softer and no more tangible part[s] of our selves which are so necessary to peace, to openheartedness, to unfolding the imaginative and prescient and the non secular realm of our lives, to exposing our souls. - Jewel, From the Preface Writing poems and retaining journals when you consider that youth, Jewel has been looking for fact and that means, turning to her phrases to checklist, to find, and to mirror. In an evening with no Armor, her first number of poetry, Jewel explores the hearth of old flame, the fading of ardour, the giving of belief, the teachings of betrayal, and the therapeutic of intimacy.She delves into concerns of the house, the relief of kinfolk, the great thing about Alaska, and the dislocation of divorce. after which there are the pictures of the line, the folk, the bars, the planes, locations unique and mundane, loneliness and friendship. Frank and sincere, critical and unexpectedly playful, an evening with no Armor is a skilled artist's intimate portrait of what makes us uniquely human.
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Additional info for A Night Without Armor: Poems
A. Dark secrets h u n t i n g h e r insides, softness sucked out, a deep sadness i n h e r eyes. 29 I he blow /Vligration aciers The slow migration of glaciers unfolding through the centuries their heavy wing burdened with all the weight of the earth they move and carve and breathe swollen rivers thick with soot my pony and I drawing deep sharp breaths as we cross submerged in all that is natural and Holy To r u n free with you once more to let my hair tangle itself in a wind that knows only motion to lose my heart once again in the thorns of primrose on the plains of Fox River Valley lost in a maze of Timothy and Blue Grass hay.
36 1966 I turned off the TV. Looked out of my window to the streets below. Dry sidewalks. A line had straightened up stiff as uncut ribbon beneath a sign that read Army Headquarters. I stared at the boys' faces. They looked itchy and awkward like my brother's. I don't know what kept them in that line, the sun was hot and unrelenting. I wondered if my brother would stand in line, too. I wondered if it would take him somewhere. I wondered if all the brothers in all the world were leaving, and if there would only be us sisters left to occupy the empty rooms with doll clothing and postcards.
I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! 26 Dionne & I We looked i n the fridge only to see moldy Kraft singles a n d some eye cream. T h a t eye cream was o u r p r i d e a n d joy, so extravagant a n d l u x u r i o u s , it m a d e us feel rich. T h e cracked walls of the b a t h r o o m fading away i n t o the small lights of h e r tiny vanity m i r r o r . We may have h a d n o food, b u t we knew the eye cream was all we needed—we were b o t h young, with pretty faces a n d a lot of faith i n the system.
A Night Without Armor: Poems by Jewel Kilcher