Reviews

Atlantis: Poems by by Mark Doty

casparb's review against another edition

gorrrrgeous little piece I swam into on the train. Very much a sequel-feeling to My Alexandria, which I prefer to this (felt it had more consistently poems that sweep me away) but let's not sleep on Atlantis. the AIDS poems have advanced, into history, it's a trench. 'migratory' was nicely covered in one of john's classes and I feel this little sense of what's between the spirit and skin has become a mantra (of a sort). Also I was more aware here of writing into the tradition via content-form, the appropriation and distortion of familiar modernist lines to develop a wider texture. That's a very annoying way of phrasing it - I'm thinking of the poem 'Couture', where mark asks About gowns, / the Old Masters, / were they ever wrong? &&& Talk about your mellow / fruitfulness! Smoky alto, / thou hast thy music

it's very nice & as hoped for with mark. still prefer Alexandria.... ... but an icon there's a jarman-ness to his visions of the above, the spirit, the lightness of the line

pennwing's review against another edition

challenging emotional hopeful inspiring reflective fast-paced

5.0

laurenexploresbooks's review

5.0

Atlantis is filled with honesty, pain, and the experience of loving in the midst of illness and sorrow. The poems are beautiful and raw.

fjcookie's review against another edition

4.0

• "they are a whole summer to themselves"
• "Evening is overtaking them./ In this last light they are voracious"
• "what colour is/ the underside of skin?/ Not so bad, to die,// if we could be opened/ into this-/ if teh smallest chambers// of ourselves,/ similarly,/ revealed some sky."
• "that is where the music has gone, and Bobby's/ going,/ though not today, not yet. AZT's/ a toxic, limited miracle"
• "What can I do but echo/ myself, vary and repeat? Where can the poem end?/ What can you expect, in a world that blooms/ and freezes all at once?"
• "we did not know we had come so far./ what did you see along the way?// Flowers and stones, strangers and books,/ water, and light"
• "so I invite it/ into the poem"
• "Here is the world you asked for,/ gorgeous and opportune,// here is nine o'clock, harbour-wide,/ and a glinting code: promise and warning./ The morning's the size of heaven.// What will you do with it?"
• "In the dream Randy's leaping into/ the future, and still here; Michael's holding him/ and releasing at once."
• "where isn't the question,/ though we think it is;/ we don't even know where the living are,// in this raddled and unravelling 'here'."
• "what is the body? Rain on a window,/ a clear movement over whose gaze?/ Husk, leaf, little boat of paper// and wood to mark the speed of the stream?"
• "lucky we don't have to know/ what something is in order to hold it"
• "the future's nothing/ but this moment's gleaming rim"
• "our ongoingness,// what there'll be of us?"
• "look,/ love, the lost world// rising from the waters again:/ our continent, where it always was,// emerging from the half-light, unforgettable,/ drenched, unchanged."
• "This failing city's/ radiant as any we'll ever know,/ paved with oily rainbow, charred gates// jewelled with tags, swoops of letters/ over letters, indecipherable as anything/ written by desire."
• "This city's inescapable,// gorgeous, and on fire. I have my kingdom."
• "Of course I know it ends."
• "blonde acres/ vanish at the rim// into the void,/ a page in which anything// might be written,/ though nothing is."
• "unripe persimmon, gooseberry,/ juniper, sage, green shadow// in the hollow of collarbone,/ love, I know, it ends"
• "look at them, the white roses./ Tell me where they end."
• "here, at the edge of immensity"
• "Look// at the sheer intricacy of wreck,// sombre, self-shadowing; how many colours/ rust is, all vaguely luminous"
• "a ruin in shadow and a ruin in sun"
• "I didn't know it was coming./ who ever does? who'd have thought/ those grand lexicons of colour would be// hammered by the backhoe to wrack and powder?/ Fallen down, broken apart, carried away:/ things are lovely, late, in the last hour/ we'll see them./ This year? Next month?"
• "I thought the choice was to love austerity/ or not to love at all"
• "I found nothing sparse, only this density// and saturation: dusky sedge/ at teh pond's rim, thicket and tumble// of violet contradiction, plum stems-/ a whole vocabulary of tone and hue, demanding,// a history steeped in the long practice/ of luminosity. How difficult// just to say what's here, in March severity."
• "there are no solids,// only fields of shimmer"
• "having been a thousand things,// why not be endless?"
• "listen: I've been no one/ so many times I'm not teh least afraid.// Doesn't everything rush/ to be something else?"
• "a brave candling theory/ I'm making for you/ little lamplight; believe,// and ripple out free/ as shimmer is. Go./ Don't go. Go."

bbshams's review

4.0

a powerful collection documenting loss in its most severe forms. beautiful descriptions and images, although Doty’s use of color almost becomes satirical— certainly an expensive knowledge of
the color spectrum

servemethesky's review

5.0

What a beautiful volume of words. Description is powerful and meaningful, as Doty teaches us. His gorgeous musings on nature and meditations on death were so moving. I loved reading this and can see myself reading it again and again. I can't wait to read more of Doty's work.

petrichorandcoffee's review

emotional reflective sad

5.0

a_proud_bibliophile's review

5.0

An absolutely beautiful collection of poetry. The author is able to catch the reflection of emotion, tragedy, and the human condition in the quiet beauty of the coast in a way that was a true joy to read.

indoordame's review

emotional reflective sad slow-paced

5.0

hyzenthlay76's review

5.0

Mark Doty looks at things most of us wouldn't notice and turns them into meaning. Rows of frozen mackeral, a crab shell. He finds consolation for death in the ocean's cast offs. In this graceful collection, none stands out above the rest..."the price of gleaming."