By Ted Kooser

Publish 12 months note: First released January 1st 2004
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Winner of the 2005 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry

"Kooser records the dignities, behavior and small griefs of everyday life, our starvation for connection, our fight to discover balance."—Poetry

"[Kooser] brushes poems over usual items, revealing metaphysical topics that means an investigator dusts for fingerprints. His language is so managed and convincing that one can't support yet consider major truths in the back of his lines." —The Philadelphia Inquirer

"Delights & Shadows increases the voice of the poet above every little thing else. each one brief, bright poem at the web page reads as though it have been being spoken aloud. information about cemeteries, dictionaries, a doctor's ready room, and a jar of buttons bristle with sound and expertise. Kooser's skill to exploit short lyrics to compose a song of discovery and regeneration makes his paintings radiant and consuming." —Bloomsbury Review

Ted Kooser is a grasp of metaphor, a poet who deftly connects disparate components of the area and communicates with absolute precision. Critics name him a "haiku-like imagist" and his poems were in comparison to Chekov's brief tales. In Delights and Shadows, Kooser attracts concept from the missed information of lifestyle. Quotidian items like a pegboard, creamed corn and a forgotten salesman's trophy support show the notable in what earlier than was once a in basic terms usual world.

Ted Kooser is the writer of 8 collections of poems and a prose memoir. He lives on a small farm in rural Nebraska.

Literary Awards
Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (2005)

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Example text

Minute by minute. 24 too near the slaughterhouse I live too near the slaughterhouse. what do you expect? silver blood like Chatterton’s? the dankness of my hours allows no practiced foresight. I hear the branches snap and break like ravens in a quarrel, and see my mother in her coffin not moving quietly not moving as I light a cigarette or drink a glass of water or do anything ignominious. what do you want? that I should feel deceived? ) I say let the monkeys dance, let the monkeys dance in the light of God.

I sit here drunk now. I am a series of small victories and large defeats and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here without committing murder or being murdered; without having ended up in the madhouse. 50 as I drink alone again tonight my soul despite all the past agony thanks all the gods who were not there for me then. 51 the dwarf with a punch this is many years later and I still can’t figure it out but it was in New York and New York has its own rules and anyhow, I am sitting around in one of those places with many round tables with their tough and terrible knights; me, I don’t feel so good, as usual, neither tough nor terrible, just rotten, and I am sitting with some woman with some kind of hood over her head, she is half crazy but that doesn’t matter.

There was nothing back in that room but a week’s paid rent plus a battered 28 suitcase full of my old clothes but it was everything I possessed so I began searching the side streets looking for my room and I soon became frightened, a numb terror like a fatal illness spreading through me as I kept walking up and down unfamiliar streets until my mind said to me: you’re crazy, that’s all, you should give up and turn yourself in somewhere. but I just kept walking. it had been a long afternoon and now it was slipping into evening.

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