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Poetry Canadian

Selected Poems 1983–2020

by (author) Steven Heighton

Publisher
House of Anansi Press Inc
Initial publish date
Apr 2021
Category
Canadian, General
  • Paperback / softback

    ISBN
    9781487007379
    Publish Date
    Apr 2021
    List Price
    $24.95
  • eBook

    ISBN
    9781487007386
    Publish Date
    Apr 2021
    List Price
    $19.95

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Description

This collection of new and previously published poems by Steven Heighton, author of the Governor General’s Literary Award winner The Waking Comes Late, showcases a defining lyric poet of his generation.

Selected Poems 1983–2020 is Steven Heighton’s seventh volume of poetry and the first since his Governor General’s Literary Award–winning collection, The Waking Comes Late. Incorporating a grouping of previously unpublished poetry and a selection of key poems from his six previous acclaimed collections, this timely volume showcases a generational talent whose work has been described by critics as “exhilarating,” “genuine,” and “arrestingly beautiful.”

Heighton’s debut collection, Stalin’s Carnival,won the Gerald Lampert Award for Best First Book of Poetry in 1990. Subsequent books, which include bestselling novels, essays, and critical writings, confirmed Heighton as an exciting and important voice in Canadian letters. Heighton’s poetry is recognised for its technical skill and musicality, its erudition, and its empathy and unvarnished emotion.

About the author

Excerpt: Selected Poems 1983–2020 (by (author) Steven Heighton)

DREAM FRAGMENT

In those days the weather was jealous and would turn up at her house just to see what its cold winds could make of her face.

At her door she would be seen often speaking to each of the seasons in turn though with a marked preference (as many observed, and reported) for winter

which always stayed longest and left behind fading signs of its tenure aboveground.

Who among us up here wouldn’t want his love, her love to carry a trace that clear, that cold, stoic and austere, withdrawing to regain itself, then resurging?

What I wouldn’t do or undo (winter whispered in a voice akin to mine) to see one more time what my touch might make of your face.

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