Coming in the wake of her vast and magnificent epic (The Iovis Trilogy:
Colors in the Mechanism of Concealment), this volume brings Anne
Waldman's work into the more intimate, paradoxical folds of poetic (and
prophetic) knowledge. This should not suggest that Voice's Daughter of
a Heart Yet to Be Born is a book of small things; it is anything but.
Juxtaposing lyric arcana, journalism, critical fragments, visions of
mythic and mystic beings, narrative, polemics, and even ekphrasis,
Waldman has created a work that is simultaneously jeremiad and psalm. It
is, then, both fearful and celebratory, an epic of a 'time before
birth.'
Praise for Anne Waldman:
Waldman brings her wild, oracular voice to the environmental questions
that currently bedevil us. --Booklist
From Citadels Thel Leaves Ringing:
We got to Mars. We circle asteroids with a strange anticipation. We go
interstellar. We like the sound of wormhole. Its magic. Thel without
footprint, without trace, desiccated, desolate, nothing around,
nugatory. Thel who talks with worm. Thel a figment in the mind of
becoming-in-life, of potential, of not-becoming-yet in-mind, just got
dreamed up, a proposal is Thel's gambit for one who would be cautious.
Caution trumps curious.
