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  <description><![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]></description>
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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    <body><![CDATA[I wasn't surprised by how much I loved Chronic, since I'd seen a number of these poems floating around in journals and had been looking forward to reading them all together.<br/><br/>D.A. Powell has taught me so much about how a poem relates or can relate to a page: what does not need to be finish...<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/58217799">more...</a>]]></body>
    
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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    <body><![CDATA[I heard D. A. read from this new work in Chicago, and I was stunned/amazed then.  And I'm not really a poetry person.  When I returned to Portland, I went out and bought the book asap.  I can read the title poem over and over!]]></body>
    
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      <review>
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    <![CDATA[Chronic: Poems]]>
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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    <body><![CDATA[<a rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.powells.com/review/2009_2_25">Powell's Review-a-Day</a>: &quot;There are poets who show us the exterior world and poets who ferry news of their inner turmoil. Yet very few possess the double vision required to do both…. <em>Chronic</em>, his fourth book, is one of those rare collections that moves beautifully between poetry's inner/outer s...<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/60256593">more...</a>]]></body>
    
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      <review>
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    <![CDATA[Chronic: Poems]]>
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  <average_rating>4.50</average_rating>
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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  <read_at>Fri Mar 27 00:00:00 -0700 2009</read_at>
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  <date_updated>Fri Mar 27 20:59:05 -0700 2009</date_updated>
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    <body><![CDATA[Because I continue to love &quot;Cocktails,&quot; the first Powell book I read, so wholly and utterly and so, I will like never love another book by him as well. It's abiding: this early devotion.]]></body>
    
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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  <read_at>Thu Oct 01 00:00:00 -0700 2009</read_at>
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  <date_updated>Thu Oct 01 09:25:41 -0700 2009</date_updated>
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    <body><![CDATA[It even comes with a Centerfold.]]></body>
    
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      <review>
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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    <![CDATA[The first poetry collection by D. A. Powell since his remarkable trilogy of <em>Tea</em>, <em>Lunch</em>, and <em>Cocktails</em>, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award<br/><strong> <br/>so many of the best days seem minor forms of nearness<br/>that easily falls among the dropseed: a rind, a left-behind<br/>                                                                —from “no picnic”</strong><br/><br/>In these brilliant new poems from one of contemporary poetry’s most intriguing, singular voices, D. A. Powell strikes out for the farther territories of love and comes back from those fields with loss, with flowers faded, “blossom blast and dieback.” Chronic describes the flutter and cruelty of erotic encounter, temptation, and bitter heartsickness, but with Powell’s deep lyric beauty and his own brand of dark wit.]]>
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