New Love: Amanda Nadelberg

17 Aug

Less than a week ago I moved to Austin, Texas and since then every sense I’ve got has been overloaded like BOOM and whoa near constantly, which is beautiful but draining in a way that feels like being streamlined to fit in a place already bursting with glass bottles and hungry birds and long hair.  Drinking excessive water is a survival basic. Surfaces that have no reason to be painted smile with circles the color of Easter chicks and Tiffany boxes, just for the sake of paint.

There’s this whitewater rollicking poem in the latest jubilat by Amanda Nadelberg called “Mont America” that has been grabbing at my hands a lot during this week, demanding attention when so many other things also beg.  It trumpets its fullness so much that I can’t ignore it.  See here:

Screen Shot 2013-08-15 at 5.49.12 PM

Nadelberg also has, to my joy, a recent interview at Coldfront (which named her second full-length collection Bright Brave Phenomena eleventh out of their Top 40 Poetry Books of 2012, by the way) conducted by lovely poet/eternal friend Nick Sturm. They chitter about putting eggs in baskets and bravery, and afterward Nadelberg has a new poem called “Symphony of Leaves,” which sings like

O say more they’re beautiful
(a road to the sea to feel sing)
the refrigerator’s small war.
A day named for daughters
or a man running tenuously, half
marm half monster a wild thing
in the woods. We’ve been chalking
fixes between one house and others,
portioned middling hellos, reason to
nod at disaster riding his bike at night.

and

If all broke free o mordant earth,
if the rings of Saturday were on our lips
or there are sleeping people no place
in the sanctuary, the dew knotted
horses agreeing to meet at seven
by the sea. I repeat. Beer is
not a woman though clearly part
of an American conscience,
we think about the moon and
then none of us go outside.

The elegant bomb-blasts that litter Nadelberg’s poems have my attention. Check out more of her things with me.

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