Poems of wayfaring and wayfinding, recovery and discovery, from “one of the best poets of his generation” (Elizabeth Lund, Washington Post). In 2018, reeling from marital, parental, and societal losses, acclaimed poet Todd Boss risked everything to be at one with the world. Boss sold his belongings and began to circle the globe in a series of consecutive housesits. He alternately inhabited thatched-roof farmhouses, hillside estates, urban apartments, and lush gardens in Berlin, Barcelona, Austin, Austria, Marrakesh, Singapore, Baltimore, Auckland, and more. The poems in Someday the Plan of a Town are his only souvenirs. Written under the influence of long walks along the Thames and the Pacific, of mornings at farmers’ markets, train stations, and mountaintop basilicas, Someday the Plan of a Town conjures Spanish dust, English rain, French moss, Arizona cliffs, and Hungarian light, ringing all the while with timeless humor and wisdom. At the same time, these poems concern the most domestic of matters—personal grief and familial estrangement, reflections on a changing nation, and a journey of self-discovery that offers a new meaning of home. As much a commentary on modern-day America as a personal history replete with grief, Someday the Plan of a Town is a sensual, intellectual, and arrestingly musical map of one nomadic troubadour’s journey to self.

Poems of wayfaring and wayfinding, recovery and discovery, from “one of the best poets of his generation” (Elizabeth Lund, Washington Post). In 2018, reeling from marital, parental, and societal losses, acclaimed poet Todd Boss risked everything to be at one with the world. Boss sold his belongings and began to circle the globe in a series of consecutive housesits. He alternately inhabited thatched-roof farmhouses, hillside estates, urban apartments, and lush gardens in Berlin, Barcelona, Austin, Austria, Marrakesh, Singapore, Baltimore, Auckland, and more. The poems in Someday the Plan of a Town are his only souvenirs. Written under the influence of long walks along the Thames and the Pacific, of mornings at farmers’ markets, train stations, and mountaintop basilicas, Someday the Plan of a Town conjures Spanish dust, English rain, French moss, Arizona cliffs, and Hungarian light, ringing all the while with timeless humor and wisdom. At the same time, these poems concern the most domestic of matters—personal grief and familial estrangement, reflections on a changing nation, and a journey of self-discovery that offers a new meaning of home. As much a commentary on modern-day America as a personal history replete with grief, Someday the Plan of a Town is a sensual, intellectual, and arrestingly musical map of one nomadic troubadour’s journey to self.

2012 Poetry Midwest Booksellers Choice Award winner "[Todd Boss] can make any rhyme feel like a concealed weapon." —Sherman Alexie With poems about loss, home, marriage, and the inner music of our lives, Pitch is a series of variations on an overturned piano. By turns bright and dark like the keys on a keyboard, these poems demonstrate the range of one of contemporary poetry’s most musical poets, a master of internal rhyme. from “Overtures on an Overturned Piano” . . . our hi-beams played across the gleaming bed of snowdrifted bramble where it lay, moaning chaotically . . .

In a time of plague, fundamental questions become immediate and personal. The pandemic, droughts, floods, fire, political violence: the world has been grimly reminded of the proximity and inevitability of death. Jack Miles and Mark C. Taylor—acclaimed public intellectuals and scholars of religion, one a Christian and the other an atheist, close friends for fifty years—have spent their lives grappling with questions of ultimate concern. At the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, locked down at home and facing an uncertain future, Miles and Taylor embarked on an extended conversation about living and dying in an imperiled world. A Friendship in Twilight is their plague journal. In raw and searching letters, written daily from the first lockdowns through the Capitol riot, Miles and Taylor reflect on life during overlapping crises. Amid the menace of the pandemic and the unceasing political turmoil, they debate the lessons that a catastrophic present can teach about the future and how to read, think, live, and face up to death. Confronting the vulnerability of their aging bodies and the frailty of American democracy, the two friends discuss why and how philosophical reflection matters for a wounded world. Their conversations are imbued with an ever-present sense of urgency about the worth of a life, the fragility of existence, and the uncertainty of endings. Seamlessly moving from heartfelt emotion to philosophical speculation, current events to great art and literature, this book is a powerful and moving testament to the precarity of life and to enduring friendship.

A collection of poetry by the former president shares Carter's private meditations and memories about his youth, family, friends, and politics. 75,000 first printing. $75,000 ad/promo. Tour.

The book begins with religious pages then lead into normal, everyday poetry about patriotism, letters, work, love, and tears then ends with drinking and dying. The intent is to present a mix of easy-to-readand also not-easy-to-readpoems and songs that you may or may not want to read.

The fourth collection from the celebrated American poet and editor, Matthew Zapruder. Matthew Zapruder’s poems begin in the faint inkling, in the bloom of thought, and then unfold into wide-reaching meditations on what it means to live in the contemporary moment, among plastic, statistics, and diet soda. Written in a direct, conversational style, the poems in Sun Bear display full-force why Zapruder is one of the most popular poets in America. From “I Drink Bronze Light”: Great American summer lakes right now I am flying above you through a rare cloudless transparent sky back to the city where it is always cold even in summer the round hole I press my face against shows only a blue expanse with white sails below speckled exactly the way the Aegean would have been three thousand years ago if one could have seen it from above maybe riding in the dark claw of a god who didn’t care. . . .