"Marianne Boruch's paintings has the glorious, commanding energy of precise attention."—The Washington Post
"[H]er persistence, her willingness to attend for the movie of familiarity to slide, permits her to work out what's there with a jeweler's experience of part and flaw."—Poetry magazine
Endearingly unusual, unsentimental, and uniquely based, in actual Rilkean type The booklet of Hours questions the which means and value of every little thing from the failings of human interplay to excellent posture. Unrelenting honesty and exacting description are coupled with the pains of a demise mom, saint shadows, birds, and "shit drying to chalk."
My mother's physique to wires, to tubes
and their liquid, days she became towards me
or away, iciness yet a lot sun
from automobile to door. I it earlier nurses
at their station speaking video clips, who is good
in one and never the opposite. dress tied
at the again and neck, she slept beside
a window. I wedged my chair there, reading,
looking up, reading,—who understands what
I read—her legs bruised, skinny, fingers battered
by the doctor's needle. Her face. Can I
say this evidently now? there has been light
as she grew much less. She drifted to it.
I'm no longer hungry, no longer spiritual, i am in a spot,
she informed me one afternoon then
closed her eyes to that radiance again.
Marianne Boruch grew up in Chicago and earned a masters measure from the collage of Massachusetts. She teaches at Purdue collage and at Warren Wilson collage. She lives in West Lafayette, Indiana.