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Eye of Water

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3.68  ·  Rating details ·  22 Ratings  ·  4 Reviews
Winner of the 2004 Cave Canem Poetry Prize

The poems in Eye of Water are derived from the narrator’s experiences in what she calls her “waking.”  She traces inspiration to “the beginning of myth, to Eve in the Garden of Eden” and states: “We could spend our lives unraveling the mistake and discover that life was one great big ‘chore,’ and inescapable. And the path is full o
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Paperback, 96 pages
Published October 15th 2005 by University of Pittsburgh Press (first published January 1st 2005)
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Greta
Jun 07, 2016 rated it liked it
Amber Flora creates lasting images with her poetry and word play. This is a fun collection to hear out loud.
Curtis
Apr 14, 2010 rated it really liked it
Shelves: poetry
"Eye of Water" is an award winning collection of poems about coming of age, coming alive and allowing life to pass through us like water; ultimately molding us into who we become. The more these poems marinate in my mind the more impressed I am by their depth, reflection and maturity.

I liked "Eye of Water" from the start but I also felt like something was missing... That was until I read a poem titled "In My Hand" about 1/3 of the way through the book. It jumped off the page and demanded I read
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Molly
Dec 05, 2016 rated it it was amazing
In Eye of Water Amber Flora Thomas has written one of her generation's best first books. 'We are invented / by what we let pass through us,' Thomas says, and a sensory world passes through her poems-regal, yet warm, majestic and domestic, sophisticated, emotional, and wise. Intensely crafted, Thomas's poems thrive on multiple levels of truths in myriad angles. They are literally dazzling. Thomas makes a breathtaking debut with this collection chosen by Harryette Mullen for the Cave Canen Prize.
Glen
Jun 05, 2016 rated it liked it
A pleasing volume of accessible, readable, and short poems, many themed around the love of women's bodies and the love of landscape (of course with the presence of water, as the title implies). Favorite line: "We are invented by what we let pass through us" (from "Marlboros at Dusk").
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“Aubade"

I know my leaving in the breakfast table mess.
Bowl spills into bowl: milk and bran, bread crust
crumbled. You push me back into bed.

More “honey” and “baby.”
Breath you tell my ear circles inside me,
curls a damp wind and runs the circuit
of my limbs. I interrogate the air,

smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble.
No rose. No patchouli swelter. And your mouth—
sesame, olive. The nudge of your tongue
behind my top teeth.

To entirely finish is water entering water.
Which is the cup I take away?

More turning me. Less your arms reaching
around my back. You ask my ear
where I have been and my body answers,
all over kingdom come.”
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