Wednesday, July 07, 2010

Coral Bracho

Read this and the links therein:

and this:

If any of that grabs you, go get the book Firefly Under the Tongue, published by the always fantastic New Directions, still my favorite American press. The poem I read this morning, "Your Edges: Clefts that Reveal Me" is the most beautiful, erotically charged thing I've come across in a long time. Most of the rest fo the collection that I've read (on page 63) is top notch, but I keep returning to this poem. It's pretty amazing stuff and reminds this reader why he got excited about art in the first place. Stick that in your jaded little pipe and smoke it, hipster.

Sidenote: Okay, so the poems don't make a ton of sense, so beware those of you looking for realism or slices of life or any of that. I'm no great fan of Language Poetry or other PoMo fuckery, but sometimes the ellusive works, and in this case it works really goddamn well. Think McGuckian and you migth have an idea of what I'm jawing about, though even that comparison feels criminal.

Back to the salt mines.