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A Small Story about the Sky ❰Download❯ ➾ A Small Story about the Sky Author Alberto Alvaro Ríos – Thomashillier.co.uk In his thirteenth book Alberto Rios casts an intense desert light on the rich stories unfolding along the Mexico US border Peppered with Spanish and touches of magical realism ordinary life and its si In his thirteenth book Alberto Story about Kindle Õ Rios casts an intense desert light on the rich stories unfolding along the Mexico US border Peppered with Spanish and touches of magical realism ordinary life and its simple props—morning showers spilled birdseed winter lemons—becomes an exploration of mortality and humanity and the many possibilities of how lives might yet be livedMad Honey Made from magnificent rhododendron poisonous A Small eBook  rhododendronVery difficult to pronounce rhododendron—whatever Rhododendron even is—I would have to look it up myselfThis word sounding puffed up peacocky with its Indianapolisly long spelling all those letters moving in and outBut the plant itself the plant and the bees that find it The bees see in its purple flower first a purple flowerThey do not spell it They do not live in fear Small Story about PDF/EPUB ê of uizzes Purple offering what it has to offer unapologetic without furtherDefinition purple irresistible to the artist's and to the bee's eye— Who can blame either one this first grade impulse toward lovePurple always wearing something low cut Alberto Rios is the Poet Laureate of Arizona and host of the PBS program books Co He was a finalist for the National Book Award for his poetry volume The Smallest Muscle in the Human Body He teaches at Arizona State University and lives in Chandler Arizona.

  • Paperback
  • 125 pages
  • A Small Story about the Sky
  • Alberto Alvaro Ríos
  • English
  • 24 July 2016
  • 9781556594793

About the Author: Alberto Alvaro Ríos

In Alberto Alvaro Ríos Story about Kindle Õ was born on the American side of the city of Nogales Arizona on the Mexican border He received a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Arizona in and a MFA in Creative Writing from the same institution in He is the author of several collections of poetry including Dangerous Shirt Copper Canyon Press ; The Theater A Small eBook  of Night ; The Smallest Mus.

10 thoughts on “A Small Story about the Sky

  1. Christopher Christopher says:

    As someone who is pretty new to poetry I am still discovering my tastes But this is a fine collection of poems from Arizona's first Poet Laureate While some of his best poems in this collection have to do with the border between the US and Mexico but there is a wide variety of subjects covered in this collection His poems on nature are particularly interesting I especially loved Mr Ríos' use of simile non rhyming couplets and free verse It made his work seem less bound to the conventions that I am used to seeing from my high school days And while not every poem is a hit of them are hits than not This is a good poetry book for people interested in the border and nature

  2. Cheryl Cheryl says:

    My breath kept catching on these poems and I was infused with such a sense of family and place and love of all kinds and desert winds and love for our country I think his voice is the one that needs to be heard right now; avant garde poetry aside in its own place but these are the ones that need to be heard and absorbed for the times are dire and the times are apocalyptic as people turn against the persecuted and the victims fleeing torture and crime and violence Depraved indifference inundates our society from the basest to the highest reaches and we need to remember human rights human feelings humanity and these poems reach in and do thatThe Border A Double Sonnet The border is a line that birds cannot see The border is a beautiful piece of paper folded carelessly in half The border is where flint first met steel starting a century of fires The border is a belt that is too tight holding things up but making it hard to breathe The border is a rusted hinge that does not bend The border is the blood clot in the river’s vein The border says Stop to the wind but the wind speaks another language and keeps going The border is a brand the “Double X” of barbed wire scarred into the skin of so many The border has always been a welcome stopping place but is now a Stop sign always red The border is a jump rope still there even after the game is finished The border is a real crack in an imaginary dam The border used to be an actual place but now it is the act of a thousand imaginations The border the word border sounds like order but in this place they do not rhyme The border is a handshake that becomes a sueezing contest The border smells like cars at noon and woodsmoke in the evening The border is the place between the two pages in a book where the spine is bent too far The border is two men in love with the same woman The border is an euation in search of an euals sign The border is the location of the factory where lightning and thunder are made The border is “NoNo” the Clown who can’t make anyone laugh The border is a locked door that has been promoted The border is a moat but without a castle on either side The border has become Checkpoint Chale The border is a place of plans constantly broken and repaired and broken The border is mighty but even the parting of the seas created a path not a barrier The border is a big neat clean clear black line on a map that does not exist The border is the line in new bifocals below small things get bigger; above nothing changes The border is a skunk with a white line down its back Dry Water We have rain but it’s a dry rain a skinny rain A thin water coming down in a covert action Rain that comes down already thirsty No good for making soup Its wet is gone by the time it reaches the ground Maybe that’s smart Maybe this place is hiding something Taking care of us Maybe there’s a great reserve of rain Kept in a secret carefully guarded underground Auifer treasure chest Like all the gold we’ve heard about at Fort Knox But which we’ve never actually seen Even though they say there is so much of it Our rivers are that way too—invisible Sandy acts of faith This is exaggeration of course Water in this place is not uncommon But to see it you must spend years training the eye And to taste it to taste it at all You must dream it into the glass you think you hold Words in the Woods All the words that have been spoken here Over time over centuries they stay We hear occasional echoes think A bird has chirped or a cricket But it was a moment of laughter Happy enough to be here stillEven as the years themselves are gone A glint in someone’s eye a uality of light— Something something made one say words To another and they laughed Words spoken have some slight weight As they go forward from the mouth they fall In a slow arc over time But they do not go— In falling they are in the humus that feeds the trees And in their time they enter the trees And are the trees so that the limbs And the leaves of these trees this shade Is that conversation so pleasant so long agoEpithalamium Next to Me I was full not of bones but of feeling I was full not of bones but of you Your hands became my ribs my ribs Your fingers and they held me— They hold me now I began to feel I had clouds rivers stars for bones— I felt them move inside enough to let you in When I first saw you when you stood next to me You stood next to me and a little inside The way you stand next to me now Your arm inside mine your left hip in my right Your hip a little in the middle of my walk I let you into the bones inside me and did not let you out I see you in front of me now but I can close my eyes And see you too I didn’t understand this I didn’t know this would happen I didn’t know you would stand at—and be—my side Until now Epithalamium The Map of Us Some foods to be their best cook for days Some mountains take centuries to form Some loves simmer and form similarly Using the surprising scale of big maps— We know it as One inch euals one mile Some loves however use no measure But themselves one inch or one mile Meaningless in the moment of a hand held Meaningful in the hold of a face happy To be held an arm ready to reach out These are the maps we make of ourselves The foods and mountains the world The stars the air we are for each other— These are the measure We are ourselves Every inch a mile for each other My friend that’s all And it is everything We used to be somebody else One here one there but now together We are today and will be tomorrowEpithalamium Breathlessness The night stars make a shore of sand in the summer sky A brilliant beach of The Impossible You have found this place in each other Not far away but up close Found it in the stopped moment in which you now live A hand inside a hand a look that sees What the other sees ears that hear one song A love alive inside heartbeat and deep breath and dark hair This place is yours now the broad shore of a new world It is your abiding gift to each other to know That when together you close your eyes It is the closed eye that sees farthest To know how in the stopped moment it is breathlessness— Not breathing—that defines you As you stand in this imagined now real place of yourselves You are for each other— More alive present no greater adventure Than each otherThe Circus in the DesertIn the great Sonoran desert of the Southwest He found room enough for time itselfIn this vastness he found the world of the living Waiting their turn to move on Standing next to the generations that had already passed But had not yet left this world Not yet finished with their grand and stark moment Not yet done with their tea and amusements In the emptiness of the desert he saw the crowd He did not invent—he saw what faced him And spoke back to it in its language Hello to the band he said hello and farewell In this darkness in this desert With a wave good bye of his own hand He bid his monsters and men March in parade against the coming of the uietHands on the Wall of a Church I am full where I was empty— My arms can hold no I have found what I was looking for Though what it is I cannot see What is invisible fills me But it is not what you think Not God not the saints not angels I feel my mother’s hand Touching this same wall I feel my grandmother’s hand In the story my mother told Of the summer day when her mother Brought her to this church How they stood together and put their hands To its wall which was so big How my grandmother told my mother That her own mother had done the same So many years ago All those years suddenly in this moment All those hands in mine As I touch the wall of a church This church here hard nowCitizens of a Great CountryWe are made of them finally as we try to sleep to reach The place that night with all its stars has shown us All its stars as all of us and all our cities and all our countries All our histories and all our families every one The country of us is large We ourselves are its border Wherever we are whoever we are safe as we try and want to be

  3. Brendan Brendan says:

    Poetry in six sections by Arizona's first poet laureate Wildly inconsistent from section to section I found nothing worth noting in the first section or the fourth section I particularly enjoyed his series on the animals and flora of the desert though I'm not sure how to describe the style he used for the pieces metaphors or personification or something else perhaps FavoritesDesert Bestiary Sonnet OneDesert Flora Sonnet OneDesert Bestiary Sonnet TwoMe the Man in a Hurry walking behind a slow moving womanThe Border A Double Sonnet US Mexico borderThe Broken How easy to spend a day writing a poemHow hard to spend a life writing a thousand On Gathering Artists Flowers along the highway are memos of something we were supposed to remember Desert Flora Sonnet Two Grape stands in the police line up next to planet bubble marble and the unshaved letter O Desert Flora Sonnet Three

  4. Liz Murray Liz Murray says:

    The gentleness and beauty of these poems linger a while Ríos skilfully weaves metaphor without it ever feeling forced The desert sonnets carry lines such as Tarantulas are awkward left hands in search of a piano; Saguaros award everyone a touchdown Elsewhere nature is always close to the bone being poems of the desert and poems of the borderlands The harshness of the land never feels a hardship and as someone who loves the desert landscape I loved the lightness the poems bring

  5. Eli Eli says:

    First book of the year Incredible read Some moments of pure joy awe goosebumps

  6. Kitty Kitty says:

    I love Alberto Rios His vision generously shared in accessible and delightful manner is a joy to read Take for example Desert Bestiary Sonnet One I do not live in the SouthWest or near a desert but I love the first line Hummingbirds are uarter notes that have left the nest of the flute14 animals each becoming something extraordinary I will never be scared of a tarantula now knowing they are awkward left hands in search of a pianoSome of my favorites When Giving is All You Have; Stardust and Centuries with its epigraph We listen for so long in our lives until one daywe push back our chairs and stand to speakIndeed I sense someone who has listened long and well and thought hard imagine as a man understanding I am half woman on my mother's side and then all women and all people become candidates for beings of worth the products of the best we can be The same idea comes up in the poem The Who that I am and Hands on the Wall of a ChurchThe title poem explains light beginning with fire and ends with explaining how the sky comes so slowly in the morningstill unsure of what is there how the fire wanted to come home with something of its ownto tell and it did a small piece of blue in its mouthFor a glimpse at ourselves I love the refreshing honesty in Not me tongue in cheek admissions of growing older There is nothing better than starting a day with Alberto Rios He reminds me to open my eyes see compassionately the possibilities our world provides

  7. Julie Julie says:

    Reading Road Trip 2020Current location ArizonaAlberto Ríos is Arizona's first poet laureate and he's yet another writer I might never had known had I not headed out on this virtual road trip of mine Here I am both a poet and a rather savvy lover of poetry and I had never heard of this manMr Ríos who's Mexican American pays homage in his own way to his Spanish heritage by embracing an incredibly uniue visual poetry that has its roots in magical realism Many of his images are dominated by desert scenes cactus flowers and exotic fruit but his great grasp of the feminine divine is what really pulled me in as a reader The way he honors women in his writing is nothing short of delectable It was challenging for me to select just one poem from this exceptional collection but I do think I've settled on the one that will be the most memorable for meThe Thirst of ThingsDesert having been oceanRemembers water misses itHugs it and kisses it when it visitsSteals a little when it tries to leavePrickly pear and ocotillo and mesuiteA little fatter a little wider a little greenerThese plants having been coral and puffer fishAnd green seaweed in their ocean livesIn this place now one can still seeThis place thenEvery grain of sand once having beenA point of light in the crest of a waveHeat on the highway that slight uiveringGhost of the desert worldThat mirage shows for its brief momentThe fierce what was in all of us

  8. Bo Bo says:

    In a book titled A Small Story about the Sky I am most struck by his many poems that speak of the USMexico border and how his border poetry is not at all a small story but speaks of a topic that is a looming giant a story about division and heartbreakWe seem to live in a world of mapsBut in truth we live in a world madeNot of paper and ink but of peopleThose lines are our lives TogetherLet us turn the map until we see clearlyThe border is what joins usNot what separates usan excerpt from Border LInes

  9. Am Am says:

    Mind you; I don't like poetry to begin with I did not understand nor did I retain this book It was a uick and easy read but the moment I moved on to the next poem I forgot the previous I gave him 2 stars because I enjoyed is sonnets They had some great lines

  10. Miguel Vega Miguel Vega says:

    The tree I Cannot see it The leaves do not want me toSo that when I say I see the treeIt is the leaves I am talking aboutThe tree I don't know I don't knowTruthfully it could be up to anything

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