Poetry. Christoper DeWeese's second book, THE FATHER OF THE ARROW IS THE THOUGHT, re-says the human against the "fucked ecosystem" of the contemporary landscape. Locating themselves in a series of varied physiographic settings, the poems illuminate the tragic reality of our imaginations: that our bodies lag behind our minds; that our physical forms can never go so far as we think, dream, or say. But this is not simply a book of elegy and woe. Drawing upon Paul Klee's theory of "creative kinetics," the idea of art defying physical laws through the use of symbolic, visionary, or transcendent imaginative acts, DeWeese presses past lament, unmoving something strange and complicated amidst "the uncharted lands / I keep discovering inside / no, behind me,/ where my bones I throw." Personal, surprising, questing and ambitious, THE FATHER OF THE ARROW IS THE THOUGHT is a wild event, a new myth shot through time and space."DeWeese's poems, a unified collection of stand alone meditations, offer a new myth composed straight out of our 21st Century's hideous beauty. The poems' heroic chronicle epics our situation and offers us redeeming compassion. That we're able to imagine our way through, across, over, above, beyond and around just about anything, tempts us, teases us, and lets us see what can't be seen."—Dara WierThe cloud is tryingto hold itself together,and I am tryingto hold up the cloud.Heavy and tired, I look around.I drag myself across the rainbow,a quiet exhibitimmediately forgottenin the question of distance,how many miles it isbetween here and anything,the horizon a cliffall jump and floating,the miles just numbershidden between my breathingand the real sun stumblingits transparent limbsthrough the window.I want to grab the cloudand juice it down,and then stuff it in the blender.The cloud is boneless.It's getting closer,a uvula vibratingin the handsome wind.I breathe evenly.For a gangster,I'm getting pretty good at this.It's as if breathing is a bankI've robbed so oftenI've been named its president.The responsibility soothes me.Orphans depend on my decisions.I look out the window.I walk into the white building.
Christopher DeWeese is the author of THE BLACK FOREST (Octopus Books, 2012) and THE FATHER OF THE ARROW IS THE THOUGHT (Octopus Books, 2015). His poems have appeared in Boston Review, jubilat, and Tin House. He is currently an assistant professor of poetry at Wright State University.Author City: YELLOW SPG, OH USA