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Sky Studies
by L.B. Williams
23 pages/20 poems
ISBN:
Publisher: Finishing Line Press
PO Box 1626
Georgetown, KY 40324
Price:$14.00 for a reserved copy
Preorder Purchase Ships: Sept. 20, 2014


Advanced Praise:


Lisa Williams' universe offers startling contrasts ‐ the City, modern world ‐ New York ‐ meets a living
Nature inhabited by spirits which is somewhat reminiscent of the Indian one, birth prolongs death, spring
prolongs winter,  earth extends to sky,  maternity rubs against childhood,  happiness rubs against longing
and cold moon,  from page to page,  enlightens the darkness,  symbol of fertility, offering a mirror to the
woman who's empty, full or wounded, silent friend of her sleepless nights.
Maïa Brami, author Letter to the poet, Cocteau in Milly-la-Forêt


Following a painful loss, a longed-for child arrives. Memories. Parents and stepparents. The old neighborhood.
Birth and death. The subject matter of these works is sometimes quotidian, but the insights are not. The poems
in this book illuminate the ways the past informs the present and how the present can transcend that past. Lisa
Williams  approaches her subject matter with unflinching honesty, a sharp eye and ear for detail, and a lyrical
voice. Sky Studies is a moving, thoughtful, and inspiring collection.
-Marjorie Tesser, Editor, Mom Egg Review


About the Author:


L.B. WILLIAMS   is the author of the memoir, Letters to Virginia Woolf, (Hamilton Books, 2005).    Her poetry has
appeared in such publications as Washington Square, The Mom Egg, Sunrise from Blue Thunder (A Pirene's Fountain
Anthology and For She is the Tree of Life: Grandmothers Through the Eyes of Women Writers. Her poetry chapbook,
The Eighth Phrase is forthcoming from Porkbelly Press, and her poetry chapbook,  Sky Studies,  will be published by
Finishing Line Press in September. She is Professor of Literature at Ramapo College of New Jersey.


From the Book:


Gull Pond
by L.B. Williams

The past is the past,
the kettle pond says.
My arms slice through her
my legs kick slowly
as if glacial waters formed
twenty thousand years ago
could heal me.
So I breathe head in head out
my arms reach until
she finds a deeper past
bobbing up in breast stroke.
I can see the kayakers
multiple arms move
in red and orange boats
near the edge of the water
where waiting is another pond
another possibility.
 

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