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Book Details
Reviews for My First Beatrice
by D. Nurkse
Stankiewicz is the rare poet who can find transcendence in daily life, not as a formula, not because he's looking for it, but as a shock. Again and again, these poems find the place where the self ends and the world begins, in the heart of contingency, where power and vulnerability are the same unknown, where you must "pick up one pebble, then another." MY FIRST BEATRICE is a beautiful book.
by Kevin Sweeney
...He discerns both meaning and consolation in the daily phenomena, both large and small, of the visible world. Though he never retreats from the specter of darkness, he finds the elusive light, strengthening his faith in an order the reader trusts him to reveal....let David Stankiewicz help you take back the world, mutilated but still wondrous, still luminous, still a place of possibility.
Sample from My First Beatrice
November Sonnet
November lines bisect the vincible light—
November light, mute and wan. Meager
flocks of black birds flitter from
the blank plane of a field to the angles and rays
of autumn’s stark geometry—limbs and twigs
divested of leaves, abandoned summer scaffolding.
When the sun goes down the moon comes up;
the planets wheel in perfect isolation.
What stirs within this season, what survives
remains far off, yet to be glimpsed. Even
the geese take on the arrow’s mere utility
in their trajectory of escape. Only
their voices alive in this landscape. Only
my breath, a brief vapor dissolving in dusk.
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