{"id":1410,"date":"2025-07-15T12:31:22","date_gmt":"2025-07-15T16:31:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/marygilliland.com\/new_staging\/?page_id=1410"},"modified":"2026-03-03T15:31:01","modified_gmt":"2026-03-03T20:31:01","slug":"home","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/marygilliland.com\/","title":{"rendered":"Home (Books)"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
\nLyric, list, long-form, personified, overtoned, polyphonic, elegiac\u2014these poems swoop, growl, psalm, flex, fight, love, alight,\u00a0allude, howl, dance, and laugh with the dakinis.\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
Books<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
\"Cornell<\/a>

I am no cartoon, emerging
\n\u2028unscarred from the twirling, crafty endurance
\nof a character larger than life<\/div><\/div>

\"Image\"<\/a>

The dead don\u2019t sleep.<\/span>
\nYou\u2019ll see a little jewelry, a scarf, different sizes eyeglass frames.<\/span>
\nYou can get a lot of sweets<\/span>
\nat our fine table. Or sit on the couch.<\/span>
\nCross your legs<\/span><\/p>\n <\/div><\/div>

\"Image\"<\/a>

eyes prominent gold ovals*head<\/span>
\nand hands blood-copper*the planet\u2019s<\/span>
\ngeography outlined across my cape, the gift<\/span>
\nI lift under its pretty beehive cover is a box<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

\"Image\"<\/a>

Games and prizes, land and research<\/span>
\nhave waylaid your prodigal feet.<\/span>
\nI don\u2019t want to hold you up. But I do.<\/span>
\nThe arc of history could bend with you.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div>

\"Image\"<\/a>

We have plenty of stories<\/span>
\nThe left side of the neck, the bottom of the big toe<\/span>
\nA shadow in the garden, a prejudice against the wolf<\/span>
\nFurther without hesitating, not knowing whither<\/span>
\nNot there? Any more than here?<\/span>
\nThen where is God?<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div>

\"Image\"<\/a>

My father once wore one shoe and one slipper<\/span>
\npressing star moss and vole tracks<\/span>
\nwalking steep land<\/span>
\nA stubbled saint fizzling in a twentieth century<\/span>
\nincarnation, afraid to use<\/span>
\nthe cellar stair\u2026.\u00a0<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Praise<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

\"Gilliland is a poet of witness and spirituality, grappling with climate devastation while also interrogating world policies and politics.\"<\/p>\n

\u2014 Best American Poetry<\/p><\/div><\/div>

\"Across tightly-built lyrics, the poet establishes a levelheaded conversational ease that somehow makes room for celebration of the natural world, the inner world, and a sense of humor. Which is to say that Gilliland is full of surprises.\"<\/p>\n

\u2014 LitHub<\/p><\/div><\/div>

\"Mary Gilliland turns every small, disappearing moment into something magnanimous and lasting.\"<\/p>\n

\u2014 Ishion Hutchinson<\/p><\/div><\/div>

\"She is not afraid of delight, neither does she shirk the hard tasks of anger, pain, and deep caring,\"<\/p>\n

\u2014 Mary Oliver<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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