The sonnet, that most venerable of verse forms, can never go out of fashion for long, because there’s always someone out there revitalizing it.One such someone is Anna Maria Hong, whose terrific book, AGE OF GLASS, consists almost exclusively of sonnets that revel in the intricacies of their artifice. Sometimes she makes us laugh: ‘The fuck you in me crosses the street to / avert the fuck you in you.’ Fierce intelligence is always at work, whether the subject is a figure of myth or fable (such as Cassandra, Pandora, Circe, and Medea) or the ‘ages’ of woman and man.
The sonnet, that most venerable of verse forms, can never go out of fashion for long, because there’s always someone out there revitalizing it.
Her readers listen suspended, as if to jazz musician Alice Coltrane, but not only to each note that singleton plucks from the harp, but for the spaces that exist between notes, between white-space and letter, image and text. Anne Waldman looks to the imagination of mercurial possibility, to the spirits of the doorway and of crossroads, and to language that jolts the status quo of how one troubles gender and outwits patriarchy.
— Madeline Vardell, The Arkansas International In forms both traditional . She summons Tarot’s Force Arcana, the passion of the suffragettes, and various messengers and heroines of historical, hermetic, and heretical stance, creating an intersectionality of lived experience: class, sexuality, race, politics all enter the din. , Charles stakes her claim on the language available to speak about trans experience, reckoning with the narratives that have come before by reclaiming the language of the past.
The narrator wonders what happens to the sense of self when the illusion of security has been stripped away. Ammons’s , Teebs names this liminal space “Junk,” in the sense that a junk shop is full of old things waiting for their next use; different items that collectively become indistinct. Being queer and Asian American; families we are born into and ones we chose; nostalgia, trauma and history—all dissected fearlessly.
And for an indigenous person, how do these lost markers of identity echo larger cultural losses and erasures in a changing political landscape? But can there be a comfort outside the anxiety of utility? Not Here is a flight plan for escape and a map for navigating home; a queer Vietnamese American body in confrontation with whiteness, trauma, family, and nostalgia; and a big beating heart of a book.
Short of achieving that end, these mysterious, unassuming poems investigate the human violence and dispossession increasingly prevalent around the world, as well as the horrors the poet grew up with as a child of refugees.
Lee draws from disparate sources, including the Old Testament, the Dao De Jing, and the music of the Wu Tang Clan.
While the ostensive subjects of these layered, impassioned poems are wide-ranging, their driving engine is a burning need to understand our collective human mission.
Divided into “Home Recordings” and “Field Recordings,” Brown speaks to the way personal experience is shaped by culture, while culture is forever affected by the personal, recalling a black Kansas boyhood to comment on our times.
In Charles’s electrifying transliteration of English—Chaucerian in affect, but revolutionary in effect—what is old is made new again.
“gendre is not the tran organe / gendre is yes a hemorage.” “did u kno not a monthe goes bye / a tran i kno doesnt dye.” The world of Black WOMEN / Radical WRITING, celebrates temporal, spatial, formal, and linguistically innovative literature.