The Nightfields

The Nightfields

by Joanna Klink
The Nightfields

The Nightfields

by Joanna Klink

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Overview

WASHINGTON POST BEST POETRY COLLECTION OF 2020

A new collection from a poet whose books "are an amazing experience: harrowing, ravishing, essential, unstoppable" (Louise Glück)


Joanna Klink's fifth book begins with poems of personal loss--a tree ripped out by a windstorm, a friendship broken off after decades, the nearing death of parents. Other poems take on the cost of not loving fully, or are written from bewilderment at the accumulation of losses and at the mercilessness of having, as one ages, to rule things out. There are elegies for friends, and a group of devotional poems. The Nightfields closes with thirty-one metaphysical poems inspired by the artist James Turrell's Roden Crater, an extinct volcano in Arizona that Turrell has been transforming into an observatory for the perception of time. The sequence unfolds as a series of revelations that begin in psychic fear and move gradually toward the possibility of infinitude and connection.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780525507062
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date: 07/07/2020
Series: Penguin Poets
Sold by: Penguin Group
Format: eBook
Pages: 112
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

Joanna Klink is the author of four books of poetry. She has received awards and fellowships from the Rona Jaffe Foundation, Jeannette Haien Ballard, Civitella Ranieri, the Bogliasco Foundation, the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Trust of Amy Lowell, and the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation. She is teaching at the Michener Center in Austin.

Read an Excerpt

THE INFINITIES 

I don't know when it began,
the will to sort moment
from moment, to hold
on by saying I can't
care about the red maple
stripped of color, I choose
the rain disappearing 
at my feet. I choose
this friend to love, the deep
blacks of summer. Abandon
the rest. I am unable to
picture anything so whole
it doesn't crush what's
missing. Is it my body across
many seasons turning
already a little to bone,
or the slow stars precisely
set in depths so vast
the sky is just a dome
within falling domes. 
How is the snowfield
scattered with dry leaves already
a pavillion of twilight. And my arms
just a motion in the great
soundlessness of sky.



I have traded childhood
exuberance for for fragile
acts. I will slip into
corner tables just to watch
people speak. I love the way
they lean into each other
or stretch back with the bluespun
languor of an evening, lights 
strung up on the wood
ceiling to mimic the lift of 
stars. There are no
empty hopes. But knowing
what to hope for is steady
work. What was ever
so important to you you left
your daily life to heed it?
I don't even know what
breathes in the dark hills
outside this town. Some
mornings the roads almost
float, the weeds in the fields
wiry fistfuls of sun. What 
were you looking out for?
What did you dismiss along the way.



Because we live we are granted
names, streams, shocks of
heat, murmuring summers.
All the days you have
ever breathed are swallows
shooting between trees.
When the wind pushes
branches in and out of
shade it is an opening,
as every small gesture
toward another person is
incomprehensibly alive.
Will you be part of the
stoneless passage? When life
starts to take things away
will you grow very still 
beneath the larch
or feel the slow flight of birds
across your body.
The bright key of morning.
The bay fanned with foam.

Table of Contents

The Infinities 1

I don't know when it began

I have traded- childhood exuberance

Because we live

On Palling (Blue Spruce) 4

On Kingdoms 6

On Diminishment 7

Givens 12

Almanac 14

On Surmising 16

Evenings and Days 19

Having woken many days

There were evenings

Of course there were days

On Mercy 22

Statue from Antiquity 23

On Standing Still 24

Portrait in Summer 28

The Nets 30

A Friendship 32

Elegy 33

Crossland 34

The Dusks 36

The Devotions 39

Have you been there all along

When I step out of the action

There is no masterwork

I walked for an hour

And if it is true

Only for this

Cancer (Prayer for My Father) 45

On Abiding 47

New Year 53

Night Sky 57

What if this darkness

And what did you see

We were born

Dark summer grass

What have you, in such indignation, become

The birds have disappeared into trees

But you are unscathed

We were weightless

Quiet, liquid pearl

And sometimes sky

Desert heat rippling the dusk

There is no almanac

We seek the dark

Dusk, electrical veil

Against the white walls

They were never yours

Long days

If you have grieved you have loved

Power lines shine from the rain

Millenia. Dry winds

Who are we, on the ground

Centuries, signal flares

Underground fountains and grottos

Dark blue

It is easy

Hammered copper

Anker it e glints in the ground

It is late

In the ease of winds and sun

Black sky soaked with ghost-violet

Time of wind, time of dust, time of sky

Notes 91

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