Poets of Color



Elmaz Abinader, Instructor Office: 313 Mills Hall
510 430 2225 elmaz@earthlink.net
office hours: 5-6:30 Thursday and by appointment

Here are the texts for the class.
• Asian American Poetry: the Next Generation edited by Victoria Chang
• Voices from Leimert Park, ed by Shonda, Buchannan
• Effigies, An Anthology of New Indigenous Writing Pacific Rim, 2009, Okpik, Rexford McDougall, etc (Salt Publishing)
• The Wind Shifts, New Latino Poetry, Edited by Francisco Aragón
• The Essential Etheridge Knight by Etheridge Knight
• Mercy by Lucille Clifton
• Zodiac of Echoes by Khaled Mattawa
• Diwata by Barbara Jane Reyes


Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Hungover

Zodiac of Echoes is a wild ass ride. Due to a reason i'll share once i see you all in 2 hrs, i am just now reading this book. I sat down and soaked it all in over the last hour and i now feel drugged, exhausted, frustrated, inspired and kinda like i'm drowning.

I don't really know how to properly or maybe clearly is a better word, I don't know how to clearly explain and describe this book or my interaction with it. The words that rushed to mind as I read were "mosaic", "odyssey", "conflation", "layers", "weaving", "chaos", "interpretations", "elements", "witnessing", "adjusting", "holding", "culture clash", "memoir". These words do more to explain how i responded to this book than any wordy explanation I could craft right now. I'm reeling a bit.

Throughout the class I have encountered some poems that I didn't necessarily "get"...and was content with that. I feel like some poetry isn't meant to be milked for it's literal meaning per se. While reading Mattawa's words, I felt like i wasn't comprehending where the hell he was taking me, why, who all of these people and narrators were, I just felt like I was somersaulting through a mixture of Mattawa "stuff" that I clung to and sought clarity from. So many of the lines are some of the most beautiful, impacting lines I have ever danced with:

Shall I wake "hunger"
from his sleep? Shall I raise the ghosts
of ancient abstractions to define us, to tell us
our names?

And also, some of these  lines are the epitome of vague and abstract. There's so much movement through these pages. Of course with the varied placement, spacing, italics, numbers, form, etc. But also in the actual stories being told throughout (and there are many!!).

Yeah, did I mention i'm reeling and feeling drugged from all of this "elixir".

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