Stones becomes an ode to Young's home places and his dear departed, and to what of them-of us-poetry can save'- Member ofĪssigning source Provided by publisher Cataloging source DLC 1970- Young, Kevin Dewey number 811/.54 Index no index present LC call number PS3575. 'We sleep long, / if not sound,' Kevin Young writes early on in this exquisite gathering of poems, 'Till the end / we sing / into the wind. 'Like heat he seeks them, / my son, thirsting / to learn those / he don't know / are his dead.' Whether it's the Louisiana summer's fireflies in a mason jar (doomed by their collection), or his grandmother, Mama Annie, who latches the screen door when someone steps out for just a moment, all that comprises our flickering precarious joy, all that we want to protect, is lifted into the light in this moving book. 'We sleep long, / if not sound,' Young writes early on in this exquisite gathering of poems, 'Till the end/ we sing / into the wind.' In scenes and settings that circle family and the generations in the American South-one poem, 'Kith,' exploring that strange bedfellow of 'kin'-the speaker and his young son wander among the stones of their ancestors. Language eng Summary 'A book of elegy, loss, and what binds us to life, by a towering poetic talent. Stones becomes an ode to Youngs home places and his dear departed, and to what of them - of us - poetry can save. Stones becomes an ode to Young's home places and his dear departed, and to what of them-of us-poetry can save.Label Stones : poems Title Stones Title remainder poems Statement of responsibility Kevin Young Creator Whether it's the fireflies of a Louisiana summer caught in a mason jar (doomed by their collection), or his grandmother, Mama Annie, who latches the screen door when someone steps out for just a moment, all that makes up our flickering precarious joy, all that we want to protect, is lifted into the light in this moving book. 'Like heat he seeks them, / my son, thirsting / to learn those / he don't know / are his dead.' 'We sleep long, / if not sound,' Kevin Young writes early on in this exquisite gathering of poems, 'Till the end/ we sing / into the wind.' In scenes and settings that circle family and the generations in the American South-one poem, 'Kith,' exploring that strange bedfellow of 'kin'-the speaker and his young son wander among the stones of their ancestors. A book of loss, looking back, and what binds us to life, by a towering poetic talent, called 'one of the poetry stars of his generation' ( Los Angeles Times). exploring that strange bedfellow of kin-the speaker and his young son wander among the stones of their ancestors.

Stones by Kevin Young