By Jewel Kilcher
I have realized that no longer all poetry lends itself to track -- a few concepts have to be sung simply opposed to the silence. There are softer and no more tangible part[s] of our selves which are so necessary to peace, to openheartedness, to unfolding the imaginative and prescient and the religious realm of our lives, to exposing our souls. - Jewel, From the Preface Writing poems and retaining journals due to the fact that adolescence, Jewel has been looking for fact and that means, turning to her phrases to list, to find, and to mirror. In an evening with no Armor, her first selection of poetry, Jewel explores the fireplace of old flame, the fading of ardour, the giving of belief, the teachings of betrayal, and the therapeutic of intimacy.She delves into concerns of the house, the relief of family members, the great thing about Alaska, and the dislocation of divorce. after which there are the photographs of the line, the folk, the bars, the planes, locations unique and mundane, loneliness and friendship. Frank and sincere, severe and without notice playful, an evening with no Armor is a skilled artist's intimate portrait of what makes us uniquely human.
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Extra info for A Night Without Armor: Poems
I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! 26 Dionne & I We looked i n the fridge only to see moldy Kraft singles a n d some eye cream. T h a t eye cream was o u r p r i d e a n d joy, so extravagant a n d l u x u r i o u s , it m a d e us feel rich. T h e cracked walls of the b a t h r o o m fading away i n t o the small lights of h e r tiny vanity m i r r o r . We may have h a d n o food, b u t we knew the eye cream was all we needed—we were b o t h young, with pretty faces a n d a lot of faith i n the system.
She boarded quietly, but her eyes grazed me with malignant anger. She is awake now. I turn away, look out the window. Reaching for the phone the sleeve of her business jacket lifts, revealing a neat row of round burn marks all up her forearm. Was she hurt as a child? Was it a late husband, mean boyfriend, crazy sex fetish? I try to catch the title of the book she's reading for clues. 28 It's just some mystery novel. I can tell I ' m making h e r uneasy. I go back to my writing. A. Dark secrets h u n t i n g h e r insides, softness sucked out, a deep sadness i n h e r eyes.
Endeavored, with tiny incisions, successful as paper cuts, to free you from my side. The dark weight of the hour humming madly 19 filling my head with blood and sorrow and dread the executioner's song. 20 1 he Inertia 01 a Lonely Heart The world is full of cripples and endless nights and broken fruit and calls that never come through and restless dreams that fear being awake and stars that lose themselves and waves that are always leaving and bitten mouths and lonely bars and rosy nipples rosy as dawn rosy as the first blush of youth and tired people and lonely hearts opening, orbiting crashing into open mouths and hungry eyes and empty-handed lovers; the inertia of loneliness a miserable force 21 Collect Beads of N i g h t Collect beads of n i g h t Fill y o u r skin with the dark weight of the wet sky.
A Night Without Armor: Poems by Jewel Kilcher