Feeling a bit meh-ish overThe Branch Will Not Break, the James Wright collection I had subconsciously been hoarding and promising myself over the years as a Special Future Treat. Because it has those sons galloping terribly against each other’s bodies and bones turning to dark emeralds and that ‘if i stepped out of my body I would break / into blossom’ in it.
It’s small and short, with flashes of fine brilliance, but not the all-out intoxicating poetry experience I had somehow been expecting. My bad, I guess. I’ve only been through it once, though, so perhaps the dynamic will improve upon acquaintance. Liked these lines a lot, from “Having lost my sons, I confront the wreckage of the moon”:
The moon is out hunting, everywhere,
And walking down hallways
This cold winter
Moon spills the inhuman fire
Into my hands
– James Wright