By Erika Meitner
"The poems in Copia are approximately what's and what's almost-gone, what's in limbo and what won't crumple, what's virtually at all-time low yet nonetheless and regularly brimming with the potential for miracle."—Rachel Zucker
Erika Meitner's fourth ebook takes cues from the Land Artists of the Sixties who created paintings according to landscapes of city peripheries and buildings in a variety of states of disintegration. the gathering additionally contains a part of documentary poems approximately Detroit that have been commissioned for Virginia Quarterly Review.
Because it's an uninhabited position, simply because it
makes me hole, I pried open the pages of
Detroit: the homes blanked out, factories
absorbed again into ghetto arms and scrub-
oak, piles of tires, lots of cement block.
Vines knock and input via shattered
drop-ceilings, glassless home windows. Ragwort
cracks the street's asphalt to unsolvable
Meitner additionally probes the hulking ruins of place of work constructions, tract housing, superstores, building websites, and freeways, and doesn't shy from the interactions that take place in Walmart and grocery store parking lots.
It is sort of Halloween, which means
wrong sizes on Wal-Mart racks, kind baggage of
pumpkins extinguishing themselves at the stoop
children from the trailer park trawling our exact lawns soon
so we will be able to supply away nickels, mild, sandpaper, raisins, cement.
Erika Meitner was once a 2009 nationwide Poetry sequence winner. Her paintings has seemed in American Poetry evaluation, Ploughshares, Tin residence, the simplest American Poetry 2011, Kenyon evaluation, and somewhere else. She is affiliate professor of English at Virginia Tech.
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Additional info for Copia (American Poets Continuum Series)
It is still night. Everyone is not already up. The family is asleep and I’m typing this in the dark. I once lived in a cottage with lemons in the front yard. I once lived in a two-flat with a huge crape myrtle in the front yard. I lived in many places that had no front yards at all. The place I live in now has a dwarf cherry tree that never recovered from one winter’s frost. I am telling you this because I have no common sense. 30 Retail Space Available Because the image we make is painted by flashlight: expired storefront, vacate space where the elements didn’t take a toll on bits of smooth façade due to signage: labelscar.
Which is to say that the world we expect to see looks hewn from wood, is maybe two lanes wide, has readily identifiable produce, and the one we’ve got has jackknifed itself on the side of the interstate and keeps skidding. The one we’ve got has clouds traveling so fast across the sky it’s like they’re tied to an electric current. But electricity is the same for everybody. It comes in the top of your head and goes out your shoes, which will walk through these automatic doors. In the Corbin Walmart parking lot a woman with a small amount of cash 49 was arrested for getting in and out of trucks.
To once. Because we rework time and space until both are abandoned in a concrete grace: blownout sky, asperity, rippled bitumen, monotonal hum. Because everything beautiful is not far away. Because one blue shopping cart knocked over, joyridden, hears us sigh goodbye twentieth century and the disposable store glows quietly from within. In the image of plenty we created them. Because though this world is changing, we will remain the same: abundant and impossible to fill. 31 II Maple Ridge It rains and rains here.