By Jewel Kilcher
I have realized that no longer all poetry lends itself to tune -- a few ideas have to be sung simply opposed to the silence. There are softer and not more tangible part[s] of our selves which are so necessary to peace, to openheartedness, to unfolding the imaginative and prescient and the non secular realm of our lives, to exposing our souls. - Jewel, From the Preface Writing poems and preserving journals given that youth, Jewel has been looking for fact and that means, turning to her phrases to list, to find, and to mirror. In an evening with no Armor, her first selection of poetry, Jewel explores the hearth of old flame, the fading of ardour, the giving of belief, the teachings of betrayal, and the therapeutic of intimacy.She delves into issues of the house, the relief of family members, the wonderful thing about Alaska, and the dislocation of divorce. after which there are the photographs of the line, the folk, the bars, the planes, areas unique and mundane, loneliness and friendship. Frank and sincere, critical and by surprise playful, an evening with out Armor is a skilled artist's intimate portrait of what makes us uniquely human.
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Extra info for A Night Without Armor: Poems
I wondered if my brother would stand in line, too. I wondered if it would take him somewhere. I wondered if all the brothers in all the world were leaving, and if there would only be us sisters left to occupy the empty rooms with doll clothing and postcards. 37 A Couple bitting on a Bench He's the skinny one of the two. He reminds her of it constantly. He's a very funny guy that way— ha-ha as she wobbles-to-walk wobbles-to-walk. 38 bnvy passionless bodies with pointless little limbs that flaunt in vain such narrowness of frame with nothing to offer but bone 39 rretty There is a pretty girl on the Face of the magazine And all I can see are my dirty hands turning the page 40 I hose (^ertain O i r l s I am fascinated by those certain girls you know the ones the w o m e n that are always girls t h e i r tiny bodies like neglected willow trees controlled and contorted which may blow away with the slightest d i s a p p o i n t m e n t 41 bausagcs While leaving the a i r p o r t , a gypsy w o m a n stole my luggage.
I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! I want to fly from here! 26 Dionne & I We looked i n the fridge only to see moldy Kraft singles a n d some eye cream. T h a t eye cream was o u r p r i d e a n d joy, so extravagant a n d l u x u r i o u s , it m a d e us feel rich. T h e cracked walls of the b a t h r o o m fading away i n t o the small lights of h e r tiny vanity m i r r o r . We may have h a d n o food, b u t we knew the eye cream was all we needed—we were b o t h young, with pretty faces a n d a lot of faith i n the system.
She boarded quietly, but her eyes grazed me with malignant anger. She is awake now. I turn away, look out the window. Reaching for the phone the sleeve of her business jacket lifts, revealing a neat row of round burn marks all up her forearm. Was she hurt as a child? Was it a late husband, mean boyfriend, crazy sex fetish? I try to catch the title of the book she's reading for clues. 28 It's just some mystery novel. I can tell I ' m making h e r uneasy. I go back to my writing. A. Dark secrets h u n t i n g h e r insides, softness sucked out, a deep sadness i n h e r eyes.
A Night Without Armor: Poems by Jewel Kilcher