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Before the First Word: The Poetry of Lorna Crozier
Lorna Crozier’s radical imagination, and the finely tuned emotional intelligence that is revealed in the clarity of her poetry, have made her one of Canada’s most popular poets. Before the First The Poetry of Lorna Crozier is a collection of thirty-five of her best poems, selected and introduced by Catherine Hunter, and includes an afterword by Crozier herself. Representing her work from 1985 to 2002, the collection reveals the wide range of Lorna Crozier’s voice in its most lyrical, contemplative, ironic, and witty moments. Hunter’s introduction discusses the poet’s major themes, with particular attention to her feminist approach to biblical myth and her fascination with absence and silence as sites for imaginative revision. Crozier’s afterword, “See How Many Ends This Stick A Reflection on Poetry,” is a lyrical meditation that provides an inspirational glimpse into the philosophy of a writer who prizes the intensity of awareness that poetry demands, and is tantalized by what predates speaking and all that cant be named. An engaging volume that will appeal to undergraduate students as well as general readers of poetry. Lorna Crozier’s work has won many awards, including the Governor Generals Award in 1992 (for Inventing the Hawk ), the first prize for poetry in the CBC Literary Competition, the Canadian Authors Association Award for Poetry in 1992, a National Magazine Award in 1995, and two Pat Lowther Memorial Awards (1993 and 1996) for the best book of poetry by a Canadian woman. She has published fourteen books of poetry, most recently, Whetstone . Born in Swift Current, Saskatchewan, she now lives in British Columbia, where she is a Distinguished Professor at the University of Victoria.
80 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2005
34 people want to read
About the author
Lorna Crozier
56 books83 followersLorna Crozier was born in 1948 in Swift Current, Saskatchewan. As a child growing up in a prairie community where the local heroes were hockey players and curlers, she “never once thought of being a writer.” After university, Lorna went on to teach high school English and work as a guidance counsellor. During these years, Lorna published her first poem in Grain magazine, a publication that turned her life toward writing. Her first collection Inside in the Sky was published in 1976. Since then, she has authored 14 books of poetry, including The Garden Going on Without Us, Angels of Flesh, Angels of Silence, Inventing the Hawk, winner of the 1992 Governor-General’s Award, Everything Arrives at the Light, Apocrypha of Light, What the Living Won’t Let Go, and most recently Whetstone. Whether Lorna is writing about angels, aging, or Louis Armstrong’s trout sandwich, she continues to engage readers and writers across Canada and the world with her grace, wisdom and wit. She is, as Margaret Laurence wrote, “a poet to be grateful for.”
Since the beginning of her writing career, Lorna has been known for her inspired teaching and mentoring of other poets. In 1980 Lorna was the writer-in-residence at the Cypress Hills Community College in Swift Current; in 1983, at the Regina Public Library; and in 1989 at the University of Toronto. She has held short-term residencies at the Universities of Toronto and Lethbridge and at Douglas College. Presently she lives near Victoria, where she teaches and serves as Chair in the Writing Department at the University.
Beyond making poems, Lorna has also edited two non-fiction collections – Desire in Seven Voices and Addiction: Notes from the Belly of the Beast. Together with her husband and fellow poet Patrick Lane, she edited the 1994 landmark collection Breathing Fire: Canada’s New Poets; in 2004, they co-edited Breathing Fire 2, once again introducing over thirty new writers to the Canadian literary world.
Her poems continue to be widely anthologized, appearing in 15 Canadian Poets X 3, 20th Century Poetry and Poetics, Poetry International and most recently in Open Field: An Anthology of Contemporary Canadian Poets, a collection designed for American readers.
Her reputation as a generous and inspiring artist extends from her passion for the craft of poetry to her teaching and through to her involvement in various social causes. In addition to leading poetry workshops across the globe, Lorna has given benefit readings for numerous organizations such as the SPCA, the BC Land Conservancy, the Victoria READ Society, and PEERS, a group committed to helping prostitutes get off the street. She has been a frequent guest on CBC radio where she once worked as a reviewer and arts show host. Wherever she reads she raises the profile and reputation of poetry.
Since the beginning of her writing career, Lorna has been known for her inspired teaching and mentoring of other poets. In 1980 Lorna was the writer-in-residence at the Cypress Hills Community College in Swift Current; in 1983, at the Regina Public Library; and in 1989 at the University of Toronto. She has held short-term residencies at the Universities of Toronto and Lethbridge and at Douglas College. Presently she lives near Victoria, where she teaches and serves as Chair in the Writing Department at the University.
Beyond making poems, Lorna has also edited two non-fiction collections – Desire in Seven Voices and Addiction: Notes from the Belly of the Beast. Together with her husband and fellow poet Patrick Lane, she edited the 1994 landmark collection Breathing Fire: Canada’s New Poets; in 2004, they co-edited Breathing Fire 2, once again introducing over thirty new writers to the Canadian literary world.
Her poems continue to be widely anthologized, appearing in 15 Canadian Poets X 3, 20th Century Poetry and Poetics, Poetry International and most recently in Open Field: An Anthology of Contemporary Canadian Poets, a collection designed for American readers.
Her reputation as a generous and inspiring artist extends from her passion for the craft of poetry to her teaching and through to her involvement in various social causes. In addition to leading poetry workshops across the globe, Lorna has given benefit readings for numerous organizations such as the SPCA, the BC Land Conservancy, the Victoria READ Society, and PEERS, a group committed to helping prostitutes get off the street. She has been a frequent guest on CBC radio where she once worked as a reviewer and arts show host. Wherever she reads she raises the profile and reputation of poetry.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 18, 2018
Carrots are fucking the earth, yes indeed; all snickering inside, who really cares? These poems were mostly anecdotal and read like fairly well-crafted pieces of prose with arbitrary line breaks. I didn’t feel one shift, turn, or image resound in my body as I read them.
January 28, 2022
When you are drunk with rage and fear
lower the glass bell over time
think of the stilled, the frozen
moment: the final second before the bird's
pristine flight from the breathless
lake, the bee caught in the clear jar
the cat's stiff body that melts
to bone under the steady sun
Those quiet moments when you don't know
I am looking: your hand poised above
the page before the first word or the last
the pause of the match held to your cigarette
as you lie naked after loving. When you are
mad with guilt, and throw it like knives
pinning the hour-glass curve to the wall
hold these still-lifes in your hands
intervals of silence before you come
and the held breath breaks
* * *
The moon over Vancouver Harbour
is full and red.
Through the window
you can see a barge go by.
It is empty, returning
to whatever country sent it out.
You can't see any lights
but someone must be steering,
someone who doesn't know
you are sitting behind a window
that overlooks the sea.
The moonlight makes the barge
more important than it really is.
Then there's a sailboat
and a heron.
Its legs stretch so far behind
when it's flying
it forgets they're there.
* * *
The honeycomb
that is the mind
storing things
crammed with sweetness,
eggs about to hatch -
the slow thoughts
growing wings and legs,
humming memory's
five seasons, dancing
in the brain's blue light,
each turn and tumble
full of consequence,
distance and desire.
Dangerous to disturb
this hive, inventing clover.
How the mind wants
to be free of you,
move with the swarm,
ascend in the shape
of a blossoming tree -
your head on the pillow
emptied of scent and colour,
winter's cold indifference
moving in.
* * *
Rags stuffed under the doors,
around the windows
as if they were wounds
that needed staunching
yet the dust
settles everywhere,
on my skin, my hair, inside
my sleeves and collar.
I feel old, used up,
something found
in the back of a cupboard.
I cover the water crock
with a tea towel
embroidered with a B,
turn the dinner plates
face down on the table.
When we lift them
two moons glow
on the gritty cloth
and in the mornings when we rise,
the shape of our heads
remains on the pillowslips
as if we leave behind
the part of us
that keeps on dreaming.
* * *
Wild Western Bergamot, Larkspur,
Closed Gentian near the Manitoba border,
Wildflowers in the Cypress Hills.
I read the names out loud,
flip page after page as if the past were
a botanist with whom I've made a pact.
Evening Primrose, Yarrow, Wild Flax -
what would Sorrow look like, what fruit
would it bear? I have in mind no colour.
Yellow, red, or blue it would bloom
in rich abundance this July, its flowers
a burden, a fragrant heaviness,
between my fingers its leaves softly
furred, the fine hairs of a lover's wrist.
If I touched the sepals with my tongue
I'd say anise and then repeat it, an aftertaste,
a hint of time. Wild near the marsh
I find a kind of Rue where only yesterday
leopard-spotted frogs leapt in imitation
of the heart's strange fondness
for what is lost.
lower the glass bell over time
think of the stilled, the frozen
moment: the final second before the bird's
pristine flight from the breathless
lake, the bee caught in the clear jar
the cat's stiff body that melts
to bone under the steady sun
Those quiet moments when you don't know
I am looking: your hand poised above
the page before the first word or the last
the pause of the match held to your cigarette
as you lie naked after loving. When you are
mad with guilt, and throw it like knives
pinning the hour-glass curve to the wall
hold these still-lifes in your hands
intervals of silence before you come
and the held breath breaks
- Still-Life, pg. 1
* * *
The moon over Vancouver Harbour
is full and red.
Through the window
you can see a barge go by.
It is empty, returning
to whatever country sent it out.
You can't see any lights
but someone must be steering,
someone who doesn't know
you are sitting behind a window
that overlooks the sea.
The moonlight makes the barge
more important than it really is.
Then there's a sailboat
and a heron.
Its legs stretch so far behind
when it's flying
it forgets they're there.
- How to Stop Missing Your Friend Who Died, pg. 18
* * *
The honeycomb
that is the mind
storing things
crammed with sweetness,
eggs about to hatch -
the slow thoughts
growing wings and legs,
humming memory's
five seasons, dancing
in the brain's blue light,
each turn and tumble
full of consequence,
distance and desire.
Dangerous to disturb
this hive, inventing clover.
How the mind wants
to be free of you,
move with the swarm,
ascend in the shape
of a blossoming tree -
your head on the pillow
emptied of scent and colour,
winter's cold indifference
moving in.
- Angels of Bees, pg. 22
* * *
Rags stuffed under the doors,
around the windows
as if they were wounds
that needed staunching
yet the dust
settles everywhere,
on my skin, my hair, inside
my sleeves and collar.
I feel old, used up,
something found
in the back of a cupboard.
I cover the water crock
with a tea towel
embroidered with a B,
turn the dinner plates
face down on the table.
When we lift them
two moons glow
on the gritty cloth
and in the mornings when we rise,
the shape of our heads
remains on the pillowslips
as if we leave behind
the part of us
that keeps on dreaming.
- Dust, pg. 34
* * *
Wild Western Bergamot, Larkspur,
Closed Gentian near the Manitoba border,
Wildflowers in the Cypress Hills.
I read the names out loud,
flip page after page as if the past were
a botanist with whom I've made a pact.
Evening Primrose, Yarrow, Wild Flax -
what would Sorrow look like, what fruit
would it bear? I have in mind no colour.
Yellow, red, or blue it would bloom
in rich abundance this July, its flowers
a burden, a fragrant heaviness,
between my fingers its leaves softly
furred, the fine hairs of a lover's wrist.
If I touched the sepals with my tongue
I'd say anise and then repeat it, an aftertaste,
a hint of time. Wild near the marsh
I find a kind of Rue where only yesterday
leopard-spotted frogs leapt in imitation
of the heart's strange fondness
for what is lost.
- Wildflowers, pg. 46
June 17, 2020
An excellent collection
March 19, 2017
If the work of Lorna Crozier (recipient of the Governor General's award in Canada and one of Canada's most celebrated poets) is new to you, or you're already a fan, this paperback volume is a must-have - a collection of thirty-five of her best poems, "selected and introduced by Catherine Hunter, and includes an afterword by Crozier herself." I am a huge fan, as you'll see in my blog post (Lorna Crozier: One of the Most Original Poets Alive https://hildeweisert.com/2015/11/08/l...).
If you've wearied of poetry, I recommend you dip into Crozier for a jolt back into why poetry matters, and this book is a great starting place.
And here's a little bonus, Crozier's essay explaining her "Five Favourites" choices http://www.ovc150.ca/en/celebrate/Lor... in the book Companion Animals, Companion Doctors, Companion PeopleCompanion Animals, Companion Doctors, Companion People
If you've wearied of poetry, I recommend you dip into Crozier for a jolt back into why poetry matters, and this book is a great starting place.
And here's a little bonus, Crozier's essay explaining her "Five Favourites" choices http://www.ovc150.ca/en/celebrate/Lor... in the book Companion Animals, Companion Doctors, Companion PeopleCompanion Animals, Companion Doctors, Companion People
October 10, 2015
More nostalgic Canadian poetry about a Canada I for one have never experienced, a Canada as far gone as the time of wells which she recalls. Extremely well crafted, poignant, always working up to a profound ending that insists a silence... Extremely irrelevant in terms of the evolution of poetry as an art. Well crafted stagnation. My judgment is harsh as I continue to search for a poetry that speaks of a world that is relevant to me and my peers in so far as the singing of a Canada that we can feel under our feet. As a personal historical account, of course, very interesting. I am, personally, not interested.
Read
February 5, 2017Feminism, Biblical references, Canadian prairie life, etc.
Favorites:
"Poem about Nothing" - the number zero
"This Is a Love Poem without Restraint"
"The Red Onion in Skagway, Alaska" - a saloon
"Packing for the Future: Instructions"
Favorites:
"Poem about Nothing" - the number zero
"This Is a Love Poem without Restraint"
"The Red Onion in Skagway, Alaska" - a saloon
"Packing for the Future: Instructions"
September 16, 2014
4 STARS
Lorna Crozier- a Canadian writer - is one of my favourite poets. I love this collection of poetry.
Lorna Crozier- a Canadian writer - is one of my favourite poets. I love this collection of poetry.
September 16, 2015
Some powerful rhythm and deep narratives, often to the point of overpowerment. Still, her voice is one you should find time to listen to, and construct your own response to her words
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews