[.ca] Begin Again: Collected Poems (ISBN 0374527245)

From Amazon.com:
For someone who describes herself as a "combative pacifist and cooperative anarchist," Grace Paley writes poetry like a rebel angel. Combining selections from her two previous volumes as well as new and unpublished poems, Begin Again is the work of a seasoned literary veteran but also that of a lifelong bur under the establishment's saddle. A teacher, activist, and National Book Award-winning master of the short story form, Paley fashions poems as terse as haiku but as direct and earthy as a note to a friend--which, in fact, several of these seem to be. Here are poems about milkweed pods, Saint John's wort, bees, and ants, as well as poems about El Salvador, Vietnam, and AIDS. Verses about the five-day week ("like a long bath in the / first bathtub of God") rub shoulders with those about responsibility: It is the responsibility of the male poet to be a woman It is the responsibility of the female poet to be a woman It is the poet's responsibility to speak truth to power as the Quakers say Who else could pen these lines and not perish under their weight? To say that Paley is a political writer is like saying that the hero of the Old Testament is an omnipotent God; without either half of the equation, there isn't much point. War, capitalism, sanitary napkins, old age and old dogs: no detail in the lives of men and women is too large or too small to warrant her compassionate eye. These are poems deeply invested in life and the world, rendered in a voice so immediate you feel you've called Grace up for a chat. --Chloe Byrne

Smile, cry, mourn, love:
The poetry in this book is a gift. I borrowed this book from the library, but it is now on my Christmas list. I offer one of Paley's poem that is all too relevant today. I Gave Away That Kid I gave away that kid like he was an old button Here old button get off of me I don't need you anymore go on get out of here go into the army sew yourself onto the colonel's shirt or the captain's fly jackass don't you have any sense don't you read the papers why are you leaving now? That kid walked out of here like he was the cat's pajamas what are you wearing pj's for you damn fool? why are you crying you couldn't get another job anywhere anyways go march to the army's drummer be a man like all your dead uncles then think of something else to do Lost him, sorry about that the President said he was a good boy never see one like him again Why don't you repeat that your honor why don't you sizzle up the meaning of that sentence for your breakfast why don't you stick him in a prayer and count to ten before my wife gets you That boy is a puddle in Beirut the paper says scraped up for singing in church too bad too bad is a terrible tune it's no song at all how come you sing it? I gave away that kid like he was an old button Here old button get offa me I don't need you anymore go on get out of here go into the army sew yourself onto the colonel's shirt or the captain's fly jackass don't you have any sense don't you read the papers why are you leaving now?