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"In 1969, Honor Moore was twenty-three, a theater student yearning for love and working for radical change, but studying administration and keeping secret, even from herself, her wish to imagine the world by becoming a poet. There was an older lover, a professor, and, with another man, an unwanted sexual encounter. That spring, she had an abortion. A Termination is the story of the young woman who made that decision, and of how that act of resistance, then shrouded in fear and silence, has reverberated throughout her life since. Angry, nostalgic, questioning, and romantic, the memoir pursues the associations of memory, moving from the New Haven of Yale Drama School, the Living Theatre and the Black Panthers; to the New York City of theater, jazz, and the Chelsea Hotel; the Berkshires of rock and roll at Tanglewood, and Chicago in the wake of the 1968 Democratic Convention. Framing the story is a self-portrait of the author fifty-five years later, a woman with a sexual past, a poet who has made her own way. A lyric, searching memoir, A Termination asks what it means to write with full honesty about one's life--to explore who we were, and how our choices shape and allow who we become"--
Margarett Sargent was an icon of avant-garde art in the 1920s. In an evocative weave of biography and memoir, her granddaughter unearths for the first time the life of a spirited and gifted woman committed at all costs to self-expression.
Paul Moore's vocation as an Episcopal priest took him- with his wife, Jenny, and their family of nine children-from robber-baron wealth to work among the urban poor, leadership in the civil rights and peace movements, and two decades as the bishop of New York. The Bishop's Daughter is his daughter's story of that complex, visionary man: a chronicle of her turbulent relationship with a father who struggled privately with his sexuality while she openly explored hers and a searching account of the consequences of sexual secrets.
At the funeral / the priest said, our sister enters the gates of paradise / in a company of angels. Mom, were you waiting? / I have no mother, your mothers gone, and / the you that lives on, me, I must learn she is / enough. From this room I see snow. Snow. Tomorrow is your / birthday. This is for you. The snow is melting. Ive built / a fire. Mom, the fingers of the dead / woman play as if in some paradise, paradise, and / your mouth pinkens to breathing red and smiles. I am here, / your daug
"Sexy, telegraphic, edgy, and rapt... Exquisitely visual, cuttingly witty, Moore's poems are at once cool and searing."-Booklist
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