TITLE: In a Certain Place. Paperback.
EDITORS: Kreiter-Foronda, Carolyn K. and Alice Tarnowski
Cover photo by Robert E. Lackey: "Poppies in
Monet's Garden, Giverny"
DESCRIPTION: The poems in this anthology explore the theme of place.
This book is an appropriate gift for any occasion. Poets included are
Jean Bower, Gail Collins-Ranadive, Gabriele Glang, Carolyn
Kreiter-Foronda, Mariquita MacManus, Judith McCombs, Fan Ogilvie, Betty
Parry, Cheryl Romney-Brown, Elisabeth Stevens, Elizabeth Sullam, Charles
Sullivan, Alice Marie Tarnowski, and Stacy Tuthill. Introduction by Br.
Rick Wilson, T.O.R. Franciscan
BACKCOVER: "That certain place . . . is
the firm-rooted place of vision and confidence in a torrential human
landscape of changing mores, shattered hopes, tenuous trusts and
tentative commitments. It is the place of life-giving clarity in
something greater than ourselves, something awesome and enduring enough
to keep us anchored and safe in the storm. It is the place, at once
inviting and fearsome, where the numinous speaks and we listen--the
place of vitality, conversion and missioning forth to live in a world
too often profaned by those things that corrupt our humanity."
--Br. Rick Wilson,
CO-EDITOR'S BIOGRAPHY: Alice Marie Tarnowski has published poems in
various poetry journals, including Light, Christian Century, Potpourri
and The Lyric. A poem about Prague was set to music by Czech composer
Daniel Dobias. She received a Meritorious Honor Award from the United
States Government for her service on the US SALT TWO Delegation Support
Staff and in 1992, an American Czechoslovak Society Merit Award as
Volunteer of the Year.
--after Leonardo da Vinciís Mona Lisa, 1503-05
enigma seems tied in with the landscape behind her.
What is your secret, donna bruna?
The countryside pulls greens of a lake
into the corners of your mouth.
The light hovers there, and it matters
that the road behind you spirals,
tapers off toward the west,
that a bridge softens curiously
against the deep curve of your back.
How calmly you accept this condition,
one hand crossing the other, light caught
forever in the folds of skin, caught
in the lunar precipices beyond.
The air clouds with mist,
and the landscape changes
to Florentine streets
where a woman smiles desperately,
radiant creature locked in a pose,
the artist painting
at the end of a road.
Femina scura, he should let you go.
The light vanishes from skies.
Your eyes fill with years.
Four centuries, and your eyes,
donna bruna, as intense
as the day the artist leaned
you against the studio wall,
your shadow cast upon the floor.
He should let you go.
Already, fog crosses the lake,
rising toward the veiled sky,
toward a woman running
over luminous hills
where the wind passes over
like a crazed bird, calling
no need, no need to turn back now.