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Big Spring
Elliot Figman




Four Way
2003 • 64 pp. 6 x 9 1/4”
Poetry

$14.95 Paperback, 978-1-884800-47-4



Writes Colette Inez of Figman’s Big Spring, “Meditative, playful, sensual, and witty, ELLIOT FIGMAN’S poems offer us insights and mysteries that veer from the cool, precise ruminations on loss to lyrical intensities of joy… What begins in an exploration of sorrow and restraint ends in resonance and amplitude, all the while acknowledging an unbiased universe. It is exhilarating to read these evolved and varied poems of transformation and love.” These are spare, airy poems that speak quietly about loud things.

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Reviews / Endorsements



"Elliot Figman's poems are ecstatic in the original, the best sense of the word. They stand out from themselves, and by doing sothey give to the transparent human ardors and longings that inspire them a disquieting luminousness. They bring us, by means of their faultless elegance and their clarifying order, face to face with the astonishing paradox that only by cherishing what is within the reach of our hands and present to our eyes can we transcend the boundaries of our world. All the poems in Big Spring are beautiful, and many of them are almost unbearably so." —Vijay Seshadri

"Meditative, playful, sensual, and witty, Elliot Figman's poems offer us insights and mysteries that veer from the cool, precise ruminations on loss to lyrical intensities of joy... What begins in an exploration of sorrow and restraint ends in resonance and amplitude, all the while acknowledging an unbiased universe. It is exhilarating to read these evolved and varied poems of transformation and love."Colette Inez

From the Book:

Big Spring
For Henry Kellerman
The sun is breaking through the window
in the incadescent flashes, but you say
it's no big deal.All you know is the steam
in our pipes keep on kicking.The magnolias
have opened their arms to gret us, the sun
circles closer to our planet, but you still feel
a chill in the air-as far as your concerned
it's just another spin around the axis, it's no
big spring, nothing that enormous. Last night
I dreamed of a squad of shortstops oiling the stiffness
out of their gloves-the smell of pine tar
sometimes flies all the way from Pensacola,
but no green diamond, not even Central Park
with its bans of azaleas scrubbed by last night's rain
convinces you to savor the season. Let it die,
you say, let it pass as everthing passes. But I
insist precisely since this spring will pass
that



ELLIOT FIGMAN was born and raised in the Brinx and was educated at Oberlin College and the University of Massachusetts. He Taught in Massachusetts and Brooklyn before coming to Poets & Writers where he now serves as Executive Director. A recipient of a New York Foundation for the Arts Poetry Fellowship, he has published his work Pequod Poetry, TriQurterly, and other literary journals. He lives in Manhattan with his wife, Ella.



Wed, 18 Oct 2017 13:15:25 -0500