I wrote this poem while on a retreat with She Who Has No Masters, a collective of womxn and non-binary writers of the Vietnamese diaspora. I led the group through a guided meditation where I asked that we travel in time, locate a home we once had lived in, and write from there as an embodied observer of that time segment. From that experiment, this poem was written.
Hoa Nguyen on "Cold Sore Lip Red Coat" |
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"A Review of Claire Meuschke’s UPEND"
"Haunting archival recoveries give Claire Meuschke’s spellbinding debut, UPEND, its structure and its atmosphere. Studded throughout are blurry documents attesting to state violence, family loss, and the distortions of settler colonial language."
via KENYON REVIEW |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Heather Green on Dan Beachy-Quick's Stone-Garland
"Beachy-Quick introduces each poet, then 'sings another's song' through his translations, reifying each speaker's preoccupations, whether love or lust, revenge or financial ruin, aesthetic wonder or the transience of life. Throughout the book, we find all manner of fragments: poems torn in half, lines cut short mid-word, and other poems, according to Beachy-Quick, assembled from various incomplete texts, 'held together not by fact, but by resonance.'" |
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