Today's poem is "If The Dead Bird In The Gutter Rises Up"
from So Late to the Party

Negative Capability Press

Kate Angus's work has appeared in The Atlantic, Tin House, The Awl, Best New Poets 2010, and Best New Poets 2014. She is the recipient of the A Room of Her Own Foundation's "Orlando" prize and The New York Times's "Teacher Who Made a Difference" award, as well as residencies from Interlochen Arts Academy, the Betsy Hotel's Writer's Room, Wildfjords Trail and the BAU Institute. Born and raised in Michigan, she currently lives in New York where she is the founding editor of Augury Books.

Other poems by Kate Angus in Verse Daily:
August 10, 2009:   "I Will Begin Tagging 'Sad Robot Inc...." "The ficus drapes its one long vine around..."

Books by Kate Angus:

Other poems on the web by Kate Angus:
"Letter to the Younger Me"
"No Wonder"
"In the Country Inside me"

Kate Angus on Twitter.

About So Late to the Party:

"'Lift off the roof / of your skull' writes Kate Angus in this confident, wonderful debut, and I do indeed feel my mind dangerously opened by the clarity and intimacy of these intelligent, warm, sad, funny, genuine poems. This poet takes us with her as she walks through the world, often alone, often filled with a happy despair, always hopeful, always thinking of distant others, including us, her readers. This book does not merely describe, but enacts a faith in life, and in poetry's necessity. This is the poetry for those of us who don't just want but need to 'always and silently unseal everything,' to see what we can feel and know."
—Matthew Zapruder

"In poems such as 'String Theory,' 'Complicity,' and 'My Life in Retrospect,' Kate Angus reveals not only a gift for smart titles but a lyrical, questioning intelligence that makes her work a pleasure to read and re-read. She has the ability to chronicle her consciousness as she navigates between dualities and among certain recurrent images and motifs. The 'body's not a chassis / inside which we ride,' she writes in one poem, though on an-other occasion she may be tempted to ride that metaphor like a train conducting her 'from a deep forest / to a city closer to the surface layers / where the outside world tugs on my skin.' Poems, then, are occasions; the day itself is a train and every hour 'a compartment to sit in and read a book or walk through.' The poet monitors the relations between the sometimes 'stupid' mind and the 'terrifying' body vulnerable beneath fancy clothes. God is the missing lover 'always giving us the bread of his body / and his sour wine-dark blood.' The world proves itself to be a terrible place, 'and still we cannot stay.' Each poem in this diverse group works on its own and as part of a sequence unified by this admirable poet's sensibility and fluency. I'm delighted to introduce Kate Angus to readers."
—David Lehman

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