|9780822965817|Poems| EVEN THEN Who will mend the wings of the angelsafter the last great battle? For history will not endeven then,but continue unwindinginto the dark. ©2019 Michael Wurster. All rights reserved. | Michael Wurster| Pitt Poetry Series| Poetry / American / General

|9780822965800|Poems| Constellated When the atoms in my body return to stars They will not remember this five am out my window, neither the moor asleep on the horizon, nor, across her darkened hips, the scatters of bright yellow gorse. | Lola Haskins| Pitt Poetry Series| Poetry / American / General

|9780822965909|Poems| The Tenant of Fire is about Queens, NY—its history, public and personal, real and imagined. Many of the people who populate this book—Irish Catholics, Italian-Americans—were once considered ethnic but now fall wholly under the banner of white. And from their anxieties a man like Donald Trump emerges. Born and raised in Queens, Trump is both the product and purveyor of a localized nativist politic. The young white speaker of these poems works to record his parents’ and neighbors’, both white and of color, and his own attempts at navigating a shifting landscape. In poems on the homecoming of Vietnam…

|9780822965930|Poems| The Now describes the unique, and sometimes baffling, moment in which we live, a time defined by an immediate future of online wonderments, fake news, multiple personalities, data economy, gene modification, and the rest of the exciting-and-yet-ominous “technology culture,” even as it’s a time when the urge to memorialize the past—to sing elegiacally—seems more important than ever.Between poems that consider the disappearance of language in an age of digital/binary communication, and poems that mourn the disappearance of fellow poets and artists, this collection attempts to stand on a nano-second that looks both backward and forward in time: the ever-shifting…

|9780822966159|Poems| In his new poetry collection, Chard deNiord explores the paradoxical nature of unknowing. I WEPT WITH JOY ABOVE THE RIVER I wept with joy above the river.I wept with sorrow above the river.My tears were clear, both sweet and bitter.One leaf cried out to another,“Empty me today of all my color.Fill me tomorrow with a shot of sugar.”This was the still ritual for my feet:To stand on the earth that tookof earth earth with ill and sing. | Chard deNiord| Pitt Poetry Series| Poetry / American / General