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A review by gabriellelac
Dream Work by Mary Oliver
4.5
absolutely beautiful collection. will definitely come back to some of these poems eventually. some of my favorites:
- trilliums (oh, i wanted // to be easy / in the peopled kingdoms, / to take my place there, / but there was none // that i could find / shaped like me.)
- the river (home, i said. / in every language there is a word for it. / in the body itself, climbing / those walls of white thunder, past those green / temples, there is also / a word for it. / i said, home.)
- the journey (not gonna recopy the full thing but i love this one. felt very personal and relatable)
i think my absolute fav was knife. something about the image of the bird the knife and the wall was just very beautiful to me though i'm not entirely sure why? lol. i found myself re-reading it multiple times.
"by now / the hawk has flown five miles / at least, / dazzling whoever else has happened / to look up. / i was dazzled. but that / wasn't the knife. / it was the sheer, dense wall / of blind stone / without a pinch of hope / or a single unfulfilled desire / sponging up and reflecting, / so brilliantly, / as it has for centuries, / the sun's fire."
- trilliums (oh, i wanted // to be easy / in the peopled kingdoms, / to take my place there, / but there was none // that i could find / shaped like me.)
- the river (home, i said. / in every language there is a word for it. / in the body itself, climbing / those walls of white thunder, past those green / temples, there is also / a word for it. / i said, home.)
- the journey (not gonna recopy the full thing but i love this one. felt very personal and relatable)
i think my absolute fav was knife. something about the image of the bird the knife and the wall was just very beautiful to me though i'm not entirely sure why? lol. i found myself re-reading it multiple times.
"by now / the hawk has flown five miles / at least, / dazzling whoever else has happened / to look up. / i was dazzled. but that / wasn't the knife. / it was the sheer, dense wall / of blind stone / without a pinch of hope / or a single unfulfilled desire / sponging up and reflecting, / so brilliantly, / as it has for centuries, / the sun's fire."