Her work is great, long line poems of a minimalist, spare style that is still modern. I always like the rare poetry where you can see how basic the world is, how simple life is--how little it's changed over the millennia. There has only been small changes, almost updates or modifications of the underlying base.
Her work is both Imagist and Borgesian, which I like--she has a great balance of life, place and beauty in her poems. Here's another piece from her Savage Labyrinth by her here in the June 2012 issue of Interrupture. She has such a sense of the wide white sands, the courtyards of tiny citrus plants by fountains in Borges and the little rooms of the Alhambra--I wish I'd had her work to read while I was there in Spain.
Here's an excerpt I loved from her "Under the town, a map" work in H_NGM_N here:
Preface:
I am watching you move in the temple made of sand. It’s a song.
I can hardly read the map through yr hair. I trust that you can do this. There will be time later to take it all apart. The sand is a song neither of us know how to speak. A question & rooms with rugs. Here & there the sounds broken up. I want to see the sand map & the trees outside the stone steps. I am going to do the only thing I can do: trust you. It isn’t a connection. Really. I want to see the leather tight around our feet. I want to see the temple you enter: go back. Here & there the rattle forgotten. The song to speak to. I’m trying to draw out the city &:
What I would like to do is to rely on someone else.
*
Under the town, a map
You see the temple & you enter.
There is the amber or jade light of the candles & the path you choose into what stone room. The box there. Gold or jade or wood.
Is there a lock. Is there a key.
Above the hearth is a plate & bird. A pear & mirror & bird with its ghost made of rice. The rice smells like a song under all that hunger.
There is a fire or start a fire.
The temple is a palace. You understand. Stones worn soft to shine. There is a wood table in every room. [...]
No comments:
Post a Comment