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    Sight Lines
    Sight Lines
    Sight Lines
    Ebook83 pages42 minutes

    Sight Lines

    By Arthur Sze

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    About this ebook

    Winner of the 2019 National Book Award

    “The sight lines in Sze’s 10th collection are just that―imagistic lines strung together by jump-cuts, creating a filmic collage that itself seems to be a portrait of simultaneity.” ―The New York Times

    From the current phenomenon of drawing calligraphy with water in public parks in China to Thomas Jefferson laying out dinosaur bones on the White House floor, from the last sighting of the axolotl to a man who stops building plutonium triggers, Sight Lines moves through space and time and brings the disparate and divergent into stunning and meaningful focus. In this new work, Arthur Sze employs a wide range of voices—from lichen on a ceiling to a man behind on his rent—and his mythic imagination continually evokes how humans are endangering the planet; yet, balancing rigor with passion, he seizes the significant and luminous and transforms these moments into riveting and enduring poetry.

    “These new poems are stronger yet and by confronting time head on, may best stand its tests.” ―Lit Hub

    “The wonders and realities of the world as seen through travel, nature walks, and daily routine bring life to the poems in Sight Lines.” ―Library Journal
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopper Canyon Press
    Release dateJun 18, 2019
    ISBN9781619321977
    Sight Lines

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      Book preview

      Sight Lines - Arthur Sze

      Water Calligraphy

      1

      A green turtle in broth is brought to the table—

      I stare at an irregular formation of rocks

      above a pond and spot, on the water’s

      surface, a moon. As I step back and forth,

      the moon slides from partial to full

      to partial and then into emptiness; but no

      moon’s in the sky, just slanting sunlight,

      leafing willows along Slender West Lake,

      parked cars outside an apartment complex

      where, against a background of chirping birds

      and car horns, two women bicker. Now

      it’s midnight at noon; I hear an electric saw

      and the occasional sound of lumber striking

      pavement. At the bottom of a teacup,

      leaves form the character individual

      and, after a sip, the number eight.

      Snipped into pieces, a green turtle is returned

      to the table; while everyone eats,

      strands of thrown silk tighten, tighten

      in my gut. I blink, and a woodblock carver

      peels off pear shavings, stroke by stroke,

      and foregrounds characters against empty space.

      2

      Begging in a subway, a blind teen and his mother stagger through the swaying car—

      a woman lights a bundle of incense and bows at a cauldron—

      people raise their palms around the Nine-Dragon Juniper—

      who knows the mind of a watermelon vendor picking his teeth?—

      you glance up through layers of walnut leaves in a courtyard—

      biting into marinated lotus stems—

      in a drum tower, hours were measured

      as water rising then spilling from one kettle into another—

      pomegranate trees flowering along a highway—

      climbing to the top of a pagoda, you look down at rebuilt city walls—

      a peacock cries—

      always the clatter of mah-jongg tiles behind a door—

      at a tower loom, a man and woman weave brocade silk—

      squashing a cigarette above a urinal, a bus driver hurries back—

      a musician strikes sticks, faster and faster—

      cars honk along a street approaching a traffic circle—

      when he lowers his fan, the actor’s face has changed from black to white—

      a child squats and shits in a palace courtyard—

      yellow construction cranes pivot over the tops of high-rise apartments—

      a woman throws a shuttle with green silk through the shed—

      where are we headed, you wonder, as you pick a lychee and start to peel it—

      3

      Lightning ignites a fire in the wilderness: in hours,

      200 then 2,000 acres are aflame; when a hotshot

      crew hikes in to clear lines, a windstorm

      kicks up and veers the blaze back, traps them,

      and their fire shelters become their body bags.

      Piñons in the hills have red and yellow needles—

      in a bamboo park, a woman dribbles liquefied sugar

      onto a plate, and it cools, on a stick, in the form

      of a butterfly; a man in red pants stills

      then moves through the Crane position.

      A

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