Gathered Bones are Known to Wander by Amy Strauss Friedman
Poetry
40 pages
5.5" by 7" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published July 2016
from Gathered Bones are Known to Wander
The Grand Canyon is Far Too Arid
After you’d run over my heart, I swept up the ashes and put them inside a golden urn that now sits on the mantel next to a photo of us at the Grand Canyon. We’re smiling, and those who don’t know us believe we’re in love. I’d like to go back there, but what’s left of my heart can’t stand the heat, and I can only hike for short bursts.
What others are saying...
In this collection, Amy Strauss Friedman constructs a framework where Google Earth, God’s secretary and Jackson Pollock do not appear as misfits, rather joints that allow the reader to gracefully bend at each unexpected turn. Her voice rings wise in the wake of dissolution, is frank with beauty and deft analysis. While each poem exposes more of the marrow that animates these bones, her perspective proves so inviting that I found myself happily wandering along with them, never once feeling lost.
— Megan Merchant, 2015 Lyrebird Prize Winner for The Dark’s Humming (Glass Lyre Press)
Amy Strauss Friedman’s prose poems are sneaky in the best way. They begin with what seem to be everyday occurrences—looking in the mirror or at a photograph, answering the phone, communicating with a partner—but ultimately reveal the magic that lies within the commonplace. Friedman subtly builds momentum through straightforward narratives that ease us into comfort before stunning us with unexpected insights. This collection inspires us to look beyond our routines, to seek out the puzzles we haven’t yet completed.
— Daniel M. Shapiro, author of How the Potato Chip Was Invented (Sunnyoutside Press)
Poetry
40 pages
5.5" by 7" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published July 2016
from Gathered Bones are Known to Wander
The Grand Canyon is Far Too Arid
After you’d run over my heart, I swept up the ashes and put them inside a golden urn that now sits on the mantel next to a photo of us at the Grand Canyon. We’re smiling, and those who don’t know us believe we’re in love. I’d like to go back there, but what’s left of my heart can’t stand the heat, and I can only hike for short bursts.
What others are saying...
In this collection, Amy Strauss Friedman constructs a framework where Google Earth, God’s secretary and Jackson Pollock do not appear as misfits, rather joints that allow the reader to gracefully bend at each unexpected turn. Her voice rings wise in the wake of dissolution, is frank with beauty and deft analysis. While each poem exposes more of the marrow that animates these bones, her perspective proves so inviting that I found myself happily wandering along with them, never once feeling lost.
— Megan Merchant, 2015 Lyrebird Prize Winner for The Dark’s Humming (Glass Lyre Press)
Amy Strauss Friedman’s prose poems are sneaky in the best way. They begin with what seem to be everyday occurrences—looking in the mirror or at a photograph, answering the phone, communicating with a partner—but ultimately reveal the magic that lies within the commonplace. Friedman subtly builds momentum through straightforward narratives that ease us into comfort before stunning us with unexpected insights. This collection inspires us to look beyond our routines, to seek out the puzzles we haven’t yet completed.
— Daniel M. Shapiro, author of How the Potato Chip Was Invented (Sunnyoutside Press)
Poetry
40 pages
5.5" by 7" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published July 2016
from Gathered Bones are Known to Wander
The Grand Canyon is Far Too Arid
After you’d run over my heart, I swept up the ashes and put them inside a golden urn that now sits on the mantel next to a photo of us at the Grand Canyon. We’re smiling, and those who don’t know us believe we’re in love. I’d like to go back there, but what’s left of my heart can’t stand the heat, and I can only hike for short bursts.
What others are saying...
In this collection, Amy Strauss Friedman constructs a framework where Google Earth, God’s secretary and Jackson Pollock do not appear as misfits, rather joints that allow the reader to gracefully bend at each unexpected turn. Her voice rings wise in the wake of dissolution, is frank with beauty and deft analysis. While each poem exposes more of the marrow that animates these bones, her perspective proves so inviting that I found myself happily wandering along with them, never once feeling lost.
— Megan Merchant, 2015 Lyrebird Prize Winner for The Dark’s Humming (Glass Lyre Press)
Amy Strauss Friedman’s prose poems are sneaky in the best way. They begin with what seem to be everyday occurrences—looking in the mirror or at a photograph, answering the phone, communicating with a partner—but ultimately reveal the magic that lies within the commonplace. Friedman subtly builds momentum through straightforward narratives that ease us into comfort before stunning us with unexpected insights. This collection inspires us to look beyond our routines, to seek out the puzzles we haven’t yet completed.
— Daniel M. Shapiro, author of How the Potato Chip Was Invented (Sunnyoutside Press)