Thalmann Simon A (25 results)

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PAP. Condition: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Condition: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Condition: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

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PAP. Condition: New. New Book. Delivered from our UK warehouse in 4 to 14 business days. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Condition: New. New Book. Delivered from our UK warehouse in 4 to 14 business days. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Condition: New. New Book. Delivered from our UK warehouse in 4 to 14 business days. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

Paperback. Condition: new. Paperback. February (Substance) collects 101 poems written in February 2020 in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Karma What goes aroundgoes; it depends onthe arcand degree fromthe startwhere it ends andbegins, but notalways. Sometimesfate playsfavorites. Sometimeswhat goes upstays up. Sometimeswhat goes downstays.Alwaysdegrees, the rise orthe fall, the door orthe wall.What goes aroundgoes, and sometimeswhat comescomes from nowhere. The Keyhole There are layersof meaningin everyone's head: a bedunder everyblanket, a windowbehindevery door.What's more iswe knowbut we chooseto ignore it.Close our eyes, sleep on sheets, swallow keysto the doors lockedbehind us, a breezedrifting inthrough the keyhole. Brautigan Vs. Brautigan again, I always come back to"The Pill Vs. the SpringhillMine Disaster."Observational poems that make somehalf sense, map-shower hairand widow's laments.Boys in coffinswith star-spangled nails, and men in cafes folding bread. Non-Player Character Everywhere I lookare NPCspretending to be real, non-players inside gamesthat they can't see.And I go onrole-playing lifefirst-person POV.But tell mehow would someone knowif they were on a screen, and how do I knowthere's no player therecontrolling me. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability. …

Paperback. Condition: new. Paperback. January (Berry Blend) collects 101 poems written in January 2020 in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Kara WTF We were on the bus in sixth gradeand you offered me a juice box. I said no thanks, thentook it back, said actuallyyeah can I have one, but you ignored me. This was on the school trip, when we all spent the nightin Chicago. We were on the bus in sixth gradeand you offered me a juice box. Crow Someone tipped a trash canfor the media, started a fire. A murder descends, cawingwith each click of the lens, flash brackets planted likeflags at a circus. Waiting for Darkness When we were youngit seemed like everything happenedat night. We were always waitingfor darkness to start things.Now nothing ever happens, and if we wait for darknessit's to sleep. The Blue Balloon This weekend I sawa blue balloonlying on the snowon the side of the roadin late afternoonoutside the subdivision. It was perfectly stilland very blueand when I saw itI thoughtblue-oon. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability.…

Paperback. Condition: new. Paperback. March (The Fog Line) collects 101 poems written in March 2020 in Kalamazoo, Michigan, many of them drafted as the first COVID restrictions began taking effect at the start of the pandemic. Almost Spring It's almost spring: A sudden greenreplaced the hills of blackened snow, as overnight the sun-built strengthof dawn arrived to grow and burn. The cold dissolved into a breezewarm enough to keep the windowsopen morning-wide, the glass panes raisedfor early bird-song screens. We know: Winter is a patient close to death, waiting for that final shallow breathwhen the dying finally stops, and tearsdrop dead eyes clear to cloudless skies. Minefield The driveway is a minefieldof worms to the mailbox, and I'm skipping like a kidplaying hopscotch on recess, dodging the lines in the rain.It was supposed to be sixtydegrees and then storm, butI think we went straight forthe storm, skipped the sixty.It's still almost cold and sowet, everything pooling ordripping with water. I openthe box and it's empty, my hand damp and cold fromthe door. I wipe it on myjeans and retreat, tiptoeingback past the worms to thesafety and quarantinedtrenches of home. March Madness A cloud descends over the monthand stays, the days all grays and whiteswithout a silver lining. Indifference rising, it hangs like a fogover half-frozen fields, slicks skin, mucks minds. Time fades; this March is madness. Apathetic sadness floods like melting snowwhile panicked masses rock in place, together keeping pace alone. Mistakes were madeand it's too late to fix them. Faith fades like frost soaking the worsted, worn by the wise against false spring. Anyone I can't see you whenI close my eyesanymore. You're likea ghostrepeating a routine, looping my roomin steps you neverreally took.I can't hear you, your lost echoof a voice. WhenI close my eyes, your face is justa glimpse of teethsmiling, butI can't rememberwhat that looks likeeither. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from our UK warehouse or from our Australian or US warehouses, depending on stock availability.…