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Inflorescence


by Sarah Hannah

List Price: $16.95
Price: $11.53
You Save: $5.42 (32%)
Available: Usually ships in 24 hours
Sales Rank: 143403
Studio: Tupelo Press
Binding: Paperback
Number Of Pages: 88
Publication Date: September 01, 2008
Publisher: Tupelo Press


EDITORIAL REVIEWS

Product Description

In this fierce, often witty memoir-in-verse, Sarah Hannah confronts her role as caretaker of her dying, mentally ill mother, artist Renee Rothbein. Entwining the lore of wildflowers with richly evocative language, Hannah's stunningly contemporary voice summons truth and love from loss with unflinching honesty and candor.

Poems from this collection have been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes.

Sarah Hannah's first book, Longing Distance (Tupelo Press, 2004), was a semifinalist for the Yale Younger Poets Prize. Her poems have appeared in many journals, including Parnassus, The Southern Review, Harvard Review, and AGNI. She grew up in Newton, Massachusetts, and teaches at Emerson College.



CUSTOMER REVIEWS (Average Customer Rating: 5.0 based on 1 review)

The keenly whetted, deftly crafted artistry of Hannah's words prove beyond doubt that the contemporary world lost a great poet  
The second poetry collection by the sadly late Sarah Hannah (1967-2007), Inflorescence is a collection of poems using both free verse and various rhyme schemes, blending insight, compassion, and sharp-edged wit. At times a memoir in poetry form, Inflorescence tells of Hannah's travails in taking care of her dying, mentally ill mother, the artist Renee Rothbein. The keenly whetted, deftly crafted artistry of Hannah's words prove beyond doubt that the contemporary world lost a great poet all too soon. "Northampton, Massachusetts": I wander tree to tree, an idle guest. / The names are stamped on metal plates / And nailed to the trunks: Sugar Maple, / Elm, Cedar-of-the-Lebanon. / It is autumn, Friday afternoon; / The walks are empty. / The elm is pure gold serrate, / The cedar a series of thickets. / I stand by the burning maple. / In the stillness, a ghost: / My mother running toward me / Across the lawn of broken leaves. / She is brining me the reddest.
April 02, 2008


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