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Sharon Olds

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January 9, 2000
The earth is a homeless person. Or the earth's home is the atmosphere. Or the atmosphere is the earth's clothing, layers of it, the earth wears all of it, the earth is a homeless person. Or the atmosphere is the earth's cocoon, which it spun itself, the earth is a larvum. Or the atmosphere is the earth's skin-- earth, and atmosphere, one homeless one. Or its orbit is the earth's home, or the path of the orbit just a path, the earth a homeless person.
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BOOKS
December 15, 2002 | Sharon Olds
When I lay down, for the night, on the desert, on my back, and dozed, and my eyes opened, my gaze rushed up, as if falling up into the sky, and I saw the open eye of night, all guileless, all iris of a starshine grey, scattered with clusters of brilliant pupils. I gazed, and dozed, and as my eyelids lifted I would plummet up out of the atmosphere, plunging and gasping as if I'd missed a stair.
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NEWS
March 23, 1990 | PENELOPE MOFFET
Sharon Olds, a highly acclaimed New York writer, will read her poetry in Laguna Beach tonight. "As it happens, I've never read in Southern California before," she said in a telephone interview. "This will be exciting for me; this will be a first."
BOOKS
January 9, 2000
The earth is a homeless person. Or the earth's home is the atmosphere. Or the atmosphere is the earth's clothing, layers of it, the earth wears all of it, the earth is a homeless person. Or the atmosphere is the earth's cocoon, which it spun itself, the earth is a larvum. Or the atmosphere is the earth's skin-- earth, and atmosphere, one homeless one. Or its orbit is the earth's home, or the path of the orbit just a path, the earth a homeless person.
BOOKS
March 15, 1987
On the dirt, the dead live-oak leaves lay like dried-out turtle shells, scorched and crisp, their points sharp as wasps' stingers. Sated mosquitoes hung in the air like sharks in water, and when you held up a tuna sandwich a gold sphere of yellow-jackets formed around your hand in the air and moved when you moved. Everything circled around the great pool, blue and glittering as the sacred waters at Crocodilopolis, and the boys came from underwater like that to pull you down.
BOOKS
November 1, 1987
Sharon Olds' second book was both the Lamont Poetry Selection for 1983 and the winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award; "The Gold Cell" is her third collection. Alcatraz When I was a girl, I knew I was a man because they might send me to Alcatraz and only men went to Alcatraz. Every time we drove to the city I'd see it there, white as a white shark in the shark-rich Bay, the bars like milk-white ribs. I knew I had pushed my parents too far, my inner badness had spread like ink and taken me over, I could not control my terrible thoughts, terrible looks, and they had often said they would send me there--maybe the very next time I spilled my milk, Ala Cazam , the iron doors would slam, I'd be there where I belonged, a girl-faced man in the prison no one had escaped from.
BOOKS
June 7, 1992
In the June 1 editorial "How Many Is Too Much?" which addresses the overcrowding issue facing Santa Ana and other cities in central Orange County, The Times stated: "Cities like Santa Ana are reeling from population increases caused by immigration, including crowded schools, sanitation, crime and the day-to-day wear and tear on streets, sewers and other public works." You also stated that "cities cannot expect to address these serious problems by simply exporting residents to the next town."
BOOKS
December 15, 2002 | Sharon Olds
When I lay down, for the night, on the desert, on my back, and dozed, and my eyes opened, my gaze rushed up, as if falling up into the sky, and I saw the open eye of night, all guileless, all iris of a starshine grey, scattered with clusters of brilliant pupils. I gazed, and dozed, and as my eyelids lifted I would plummet up out of the atmosphere, plunging and gasping as if I'd missed a stair.
NEWS
January 16, 1985
Top honors for a novel about a North Dakota Indian tribe and a first-time prize in criticism highlighted the 10th annual National Book Critics Circle Awards. Louise Erdrich received first prize in fiction for her first novel, "Love Medicine," about the Turtle Mountain Band of the Chippewa tribe in North Dakota. The award was one of several announced Monday by the organization of 400 book critics and book review editors.
BOOKS
June 7, 1992
In the June 1 editorial "How Many Is Too Much?" which addresses the overcrowding issue facing Santa Ana and other cities in central Orange County, The Times stated: "Cities like Santa Ana are reeling from population increases caused by immigration, including crowded schools, sanitation, crime and the day-to-day wear and tear on streets, sewers and other public works." You also stated that "cities cannot expect to address these serious problems by simply exporting residents to the next town."
NEWS
March 23, 1990 | PENELOPE MOFFET
Sharon Olds, a highly acclaimed New York writer, will read her poetry in Laguna Beach tonight. "As it happens, I've never read in Southern California before," she said in a telephone interview. "This will be exciting for me; this will be a first."
BOOKS
November 1, 1987
Sharon Olds' second book was both the Lamont Poetry Selection for 1983 and the winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award; "The Gold Cell" is her third collection. Alcatraz When I was a girl, I knew I was a man because they might send me to Alcatraz and only men went to Alcatraz. Every time we drove to the city I'd see it there, white as a white shark in the shark-rich Bay, the bars like milk-white ribs. I knew I had pushed my parents too far, my inner badness had spread like ink and taken me over, I could not control my terrible thoughts, terrible looks, and they had often said they would send me there--maybe the very next time I spilled my milk, Ala Cazam , the iron doors would slam, I'd be there where I belonged, a girl-faced man in the prison no one had escaped from.
BOOKS
March 15, 1987
On the dirt, the dead live-oak leaves lay like dried-out turtle shells, scorched and crisp, their points sharp as wasps' stingers. Sated mosquitoes hung in the air like sharks in water, and when you held up a tuna sandwich a gold sphere of yellow-jackets formed around your hand in the air and moved when you moved. Everything circled around the great pool, blue and glittering as the sacred waters at Crocodilopolis, and the boys came from underwater like that to pull you down.
BOOKS
February 27, 1994 | David Dorion
Last Sunday afternoon, under wood beam ceilings and arched windows looking out to a courtyard at the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood, the 100 seats and sofas in the main lobby were filled. Michael Ontkean (in his other life, the sheriff on "Twin Peaks") read a selection of poems by Sharon Olds, Amy Gerstler and Dylan Thomas, then read his own work, much of which focuses on his Canadian childhood. This reading opened the third season of the New York-based Poetry Society of America's L.A.
MAGAZINE
August 9, 1987 | SUSAN SQUIRE
WITHIN IRVINE'S poetry workshop, life is fairly serene. There is no anxiety about making connections to agents and editors and publishers, no debate over literary versus commercial work. The only thing anyone ever frets over here is how to keep writing and still have the occasional hot meal.
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