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By Lyn Hejinian

Famous at the present time as one of many nice works of latest American literature, My lifestyles is instantly poetic autobiography, own narrative, a woman’s fiction, and an ongoing discussion with the poet and her adventure. Upon its first e-book through solar & Moon Press (the variation reprinted right here) the ebook Library magazine defined the publication as one who "is an interesting trip that either illuminates and perplexes, teases and demanding situations, because it unearths an cutting edge artist at work."

Lyn Hejinian is the writer of The cellphone, The chilly of Poetry, Writing Is an reduction to reminiscence and A Border Comedy. She lives in Berkeley and teaches on the college of California.

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Mhen one travels, one might "hit" a storm. The shoe must be tied to the ankle. As for we who "love to be astonished," McDonalds is the world's largest purchaser of beef eyeballs. They went out with bows and armbands to shoot at the hay. It's as easy as waves, slopping water. Tiaverse, watch, and cease. He had the hands of an artist. Penelope reworking the twill. " I'11just keep myself from picking up the telephone, in order to get some work done. What memory is not a "gripping" thought. Only fragments are accurate.

A healthy dialectic between poetry and prose. Good days go by fast, too fast. On the low rectangular coffee table was a rack for the postcard collection. A lot of questions, a few answers, the progress of questioning, the spot on the brain where these words will go. For example, I remember the blue coat with the red piping but I don't remember myself in it. There was green dust on the park bench, sanded by bottoms. " Raisins, cheese, the fapanese. I was stocking counter-convention in the localized world of the kitchen steam and rain.

As for we who "love to be astonished," the night is lit. Remarkably to learn to look. My father would say I've a "big day" tomor- a storm row. Words are not always adequate to the occasion, and my "probably" sounded hopeless. It's real, why, so, it's wrong. I mentioned my face because I am made that way wonderfully like a shadow I do not despise. But if I don't like the first dress I try on, I won't like any. It is only a coincidence. Whose shadow who's. At the circus the elephants were more beautiful than the horses, more touching than the clowns, and more graceful than the tigers trained to jump on their backs.

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