Not Till We Are Lost

by William Wenthe

Book Overview

William Wenthe's second collection of poetry is a personal amplification of a passage from Henry Thoreau's Walden, "Not till we are lost, in other words, not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations." Beginning with the necessary dislocation and loss that accompany adulthood, these strong and moving poems tell a story of a man's losing his way in the midst of personal...

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0807129046
• ISBN13: 9780807129043
• Release Date: October 2003
• Publisher: LSU Press
• Length: 56 Pages
• Weight: 0.25 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.2" x 6.2" x 8.4"

Customer Reviews

Poetry Worth Re-reading

There is a wise maturity to the elegiac nature of these poems. The first poem, "Water Dish," for instance, is, on the surface, a straightforward meditation on epiphanies, these beautiful moments that wake us into the present. But look a little deeper, and you will see an elegy for the "now", this present moment, no matter how wonderful. This and many of the other poems here, deeply show that, truly, like a semi truck, the future and the past so often run our lives over. And worse, the very thing we hope can save us, our best words, wall out the real. Nevertheless, courageously, these poems continue to call into the darkness and "lostness" of our lives. The echoes that return make us quiet ourselves and listen. Listen deeply.

beautiful

Wenthe reinforces the basis of poetry. His poems are some of the best that are being written today. He proves a love of words, and he's a master at creating music with his medium. A beautiful, sparkling book of poems.

Deeper into the Thing Itself

Pellucid fragility creates the elegiac yet joyous tone of William Wenthe's second collection, *Not Till We Are Lost.* Rhythmically varied, captured with an eye as unblinking and startling as that of fish ("crewcut lawn," "the rhododendron as a chalice / of shadow"), Wenthe's lines play the literal against the transcendent in a way that invigorates and affirms both. Quiet scholarship ("Goldeneye," "W. H. Auden, Leaving Lubbock. . .") and artfulness (the lovely sonnet sequence "The Mysteries") carry and lift these lyrics on their voyage; tact permits and renders their intimacy. To read the short poem "Gar" is to feel the universe, of a sudden, quiver. The losses that we must suffer these poems create with a candor that will break your heart; yet you will wish for them to break it again and again.