5/11/2023 0 Comments Anne carson glass![]() ![]() I always find it odd when the writing that speaks to me the most was brought into existence the same year of my birth. This poem was published the year of my birth and likely (or at least I like to imagine) it was written the month I was born. While at grips with loss, Anne describes long morning walks across the moor, her feet digging into the wet earth of early April, apparitions of nude women who appear to her during nightly visions, feverish dreams of a formless anger that leaves her sweaty and restless in bed, and the growing resemblance she observes between her and the reclusive Emily Bronte. This essay is a long and unraveling portrait of a woman’s grief, which she examines while visiting her aging mother who lives on a moor in northern Canada. My face in the bathroom mirror has white streaks down it. ![]() Thinking of the man who left in September. Night drips its silver tap down the back. ![]() Anne Carson’s The Glass Essay opens: I I can hear little clicks inside my dream. ![]()
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