Index of Authors
Dionne Brand has written at least the following books:
Poetry:
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Fiction:
Non-Fiction:
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listen, just because I've spent these few verses fingering this register of the heart, clapping life, as a woman on a noisy beach, calling blood into veins dry as sand, do not think that things escape me, this drawn skin of hunger twanging as a bow, this shiver whistling into the white face of capital, a shadow traipsing, icy veined and bloodless through city alleys of wet light, the police bullet glistening through a black woman's spine in November, against red pools of democracy bursting the hemisphere's seams, the heart sinks, and sinks like a moon. -- From "hard against the soul," No Language is Neutral (1994), p. 42 |
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It's true, you spend the years after thirty turning over the suggestion that you have been an imbecile, hearing finally all the words that passed you like air, like so much fun, or all the words that must have existed while you were listening to others. What would I want with this sentence you say flinging it aside ... and then again sometimes you were duped, poems placed deliberately in your way. -- From "Hard against the soul," No Language is Neutral (1994), p. 49 |
Someone at a party drew me aside to tell me a lie about my poems, they said "you write well, your use of language is remarkable" Well if that was true, hell would break loose by now, colonies and fascist states would fall, housework would be banned, pregnant women would walk naked in the streets, men would stay home at night, cowering. whoever it was, this trickster, I wish they'd keep their damn lies to themselves. -- From Chronicles of the Hostile Sun (1984), p. 33 |
one year and a half I wrestled in the trenches with opportunists, quasi-feminists and their government friends; a struggle like that in some places would be revolutionary, empower a whole people; here in Toronto we get a community service and a congratulatory letter from the minister of immigration. -- #6, Epigrams to Ernesto Cardenal in Defense of Claudia. |
I feel wicked when there's no snow in December as if I've willed it so I say 'damn good there's no blasted snow'; I have no sympathy for skiers, I say they enjoy other people's misfortunes, snow plough drivers and other warm blooded creatures as for ski resort owners - procurers and panders! when there's no snow in December I feel wicked and positively sublime. -- #30, Winter Epigrams |