The New York Head Shop and Museum by Audre Lorde

The New York Head Shop and Museum Reviews

• 
  Magali

  I don't know what to say other than I am deeply in love with Audre Lorde's words.
• 
  Lilly

  The anger feels nearly tangible and heartbreak is mused upon more. This book was both like and unlike the previous three I've read. Works I thought on: There Is More Than One Way To Skin A Coon, A Sewerplant Grows In Harlem, The Fallen, part IV of Blackstudies
• 
  Lara

  This collection feels uneven to me in the same way that
  From a Land Where Other People Live does, but still, there are a number of poems here that I really like: One Year to Life on the Grand Central Shuttle; A Trip on the Staten Island Ferry; To the Girl Who Lives in a Tree; Memorial IV; Love Poem; Mentor; The Fallen; Naturally; Song for a Thin Sister; Revolution is One Form of Social Change; All Hallows Eve; Ballad from Childhood...
  
  I think sometimes Lorde's poems swing in a direction that's difficult for me to understand--I can't quite grasp the imagery, and they feel less lyrical to me. I think she was at her best with those poems that almost have a taste to them. Then again, maybe I just need to spend more time with the others, or work a little harder at them.
  
  Anyway, I haven't included a poem in my reviews of the last couple of books, partly because other people already had, and partly because I couldn't decide which ones I liked the best. But for whatever reason this is the one in this collection that I keep coming back to, so:
  
  All Hallows Eve
  
  My mother taught each one of us
  to pray
  as soon as we could talk
  and every Halloween
  to comfort us
  before she went to work
  my mother cooked fresh pumpkin with brown sugar
  and placing penny candles in our windows
  she said her yearly prayers
  for all our dead.
  
  As soon as mother left us
  we feasted on warm pumpkin
  until the empty pot sang out its earthy smell
  and then, our mouths free,
  we told each other stories of other Halloweens
  making our wishes true
  while from our windows
  we watched the streets grow dark
  and the witches slowly gathering below.
  
  In each window
  a penny candle in its own dish of water
  flickered around our tales
  throughout the evening.
  Most of them burnt down
  before our stories ended
  and we went to bed
  without replacing them.
  
  Next up:
  Coal.
• 
  andré crombie

  “There was nothing furtive about the swirls
  of neon-bright magenta
  prancing off your fingertips
  like ideal selves”
• 
  Terry Jess

  More good stuff from Audre Lorde. I would love to take a class on her work from someone who knows, but I receive enough to enjoy most of these. Favorite poem award for this collection goes to Bees!
• 
  Aseel

  
I hope with love.
• 
  morefiction

  This collection shockingly didn't continue the upward trejactory that I experienced whilst reading some of Lorde's ealrier collections.
• 
  Bethany Rae'Ann

  -And Don't Think I Won't Be Waiting
  -Separation
  -Revolution Is One Form Of Social Change