Beat the rise! Delivery fees are going up soon. INFO
Sharon Black credits becoming a poet to two girlhood memories from the late 60s. The first was accompanying her physician father on house calls through central Pennsylvania farm country, staring, often bored, out the passenger seat window between patient visits. The second has to do with the long row of empty, gallon-sized glass cider bottles, dusty and draped with spider webs, that lined the north wall of the unfinished basement in her childhood home. Ms. Black's work appears in over 40 publications over many decades. Twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize, her poems have placed in contests, secured best-in-issue accolades, and been selected for anthology/anniversary-issue publications. The Snow Arrow: Selected Poems gathers many of these poems as well as some newer pieces. Since her retirement from librarianship at the University of Pennsylvania, she has added abstract painting (see cover art) and playwriting to her creative pursuits. Her first play, Welcome to the RAA, received a staged reading at Burning Coal Theater in 2021 and she is at work on a second called The Drip in which hypodermic media indoctrination, climate change, cultism, and conceptual art collide to test family relations. She resides in Wallingford, PA with her husband George though they spend a lot of ""spirit time"" on Rainbow Lake in the Adirondacks. Sharon Black credits becoming a poet to two girlhood memories from the late 60s. The first was accompanying her physician father on house calls through central Pennsylvania farm country, staring, often bored, out the passenger seat window between patient visits. The second has to do with the long row of empty, gallon-sized glass cider bottles, dusty and draped with spider webs, that lined the north wall of the unfinished basement in her childhood home. Ms. Black's work appears in over 40 publications over many decades. Twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize, her poems have placed in contests, secured best-in-issue accolades, and been selected for anthology/anniversary-issue publications. The Snow Arrow: Selected Poems gathers many of these poems as well as some newer pieces. Since her retirement from librarianship at the University of Pennsylvania, she has added abstract painting (see cover art) and playwriting to her creative pursuits. Her first play, Welcome to the RAA, received a staged reading at Burning Coal Theater in 2021 and she is at work on a second called The Drip in which hypodermic media indoctrination, climate change, cultism, and conceptual art collide to test family relations. She resides in Wallingford, PA with her husband George though they spend a lot of ""spirit time"" on Rainbow Lake in the Adirondacks.
Black's writing is both tightly disciplined and coyly whimsical. The world of these poems is a convincing one with its share of keen, if sometimes surreal observation. There is a loveliness in The Snow Arrow that, as much as it doesn't want to, sometimes hurts. At times there is also a sense of something not quite right, something off, not by a lot but by some metric of what it means to be human. These are poems in which you sometimes forget to breathe. In other places they are reminding you to breathe. -JAMES CARPENTER, author, Honeyed Words and Bitter Sharon Black, a Philadelphia area poet who I heard at Slought as part of the new Slought Fellows series, is a disarmingly humble poet whose works are homey and yet, like a home, surrounded by prickly brambles and some surprises inside and out. Black does some wonderful visual conjuring in her works, like in the love poem to her house in which she talks about how the house sits in the grass like a contented cow. -ROBERTA FALLON, artist, art critic, co-founder of ArtBlog From the wilds of suburban life, and, once, a career in the city, this poet is a wizard of startling language and stories. She shows us her sacred sauté pan and, the refusal of some onions to properly caramelize, /as if one could be persuaded by those that do. Visit her home where there are invisible handprints everywhere, / even the floor from push-ups and cartwheels. Share her longing to be a cavernous ship from the last century / sunk on the bottom of the sea, / fish flitting from one appalling room / to the next, each in the most impeccable disorder. Open this debut book, smooth its pages, and prepare to be surprised, challenged, and charmed. -AMY E. LAUB, author, Household Goods: Poems about Home
