Vladimir Nabokov

NABOKV-L post 0009850, Fri, 4 Jun 2004 10:50:51 -0700

Subject
Fw: New Poetry Book
Date
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----- Original Message -----
From: Laura Stamps
To: chtodel@gss.ucsb.edu
Sent: Friday, June 04, 2004 7:08 AM
Subject: New Poetry Book


New Poetry Book!

CAT DAZE: NEW & SELECTED POEMS by Laura Stamps
(60 pages, $5.00, free shipping in the U.S.)

This special book, small enough to tuck in a purse or pocket, contains a collection of cat poems by award-winning poet and novelist Laura Stamps. The perfect gift for cat owners and cat-loving friends and family! This attractive little book was also a finalist in the 2004 Plan B Press Chapbook Competition (Philadelphia, PA). You'll find more information about CAT DAZE and other poetry books and novels by Laura Stamps at the Kittyfeather Press web site (www.kittyfeatherpress.blogspot.com).

TO ORDER: Make $5.00 check or money order payable to LAURA STAMPS
MAIL TO: Laura Stamps, Kittyfeather Press, P.O. Box 212534, Columbia, SC 29221-2534

Laura Stamps is an award-winning novelist and poet. Over four hundred of her poems, short stories, and poetry book reviews have appeared in literary journals, magazines, and anthologies worldwide. She is the author of more than twenty-five books of fiction and poetry. Her books are collected and archived by the Poetry/Rare Books Collection of the University Libraries at the State University of New York in Buffalo, New York, and the Gandhi Library in England.

The title poem from the book:

CAT DAZE (c) Laura Stamps

The clouds today
are swift chalk strokes
skipping across the faux
marble of a cerulean sky,
and I am typing, when the cat
that's always in trouble
wobbles past me, wearing
a square tissue box
over her head, weaving
in a world that is suddenly
as murky as the ebony
gloss of a crow.
I twist the box from her neck,
and she gallops across
the hall, her ears
swimming with the slick
voice of mischief.
Later, interrupted again,
I turn toward an odd
thumping behind my chair,
where my youngest cat
slumps in the corner,
the tissue box planted
on his head, while he bangs
against the wall, a prisoner
in a cardboard cage
as opaque as the petals
of a black pansy.
I remove the box, and he rolls
on the floor, a pilgrim
happy to be free, as relieved
as any of us when we emerge
from our wanderings
in the sunless valley
to embrace the glorious
leaf-shine of the light.
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