Of Form & Gather
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Of Form & Gather

Felicia Zamora

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eBook - ePub

Of Form & Gather

Felicia Zamora

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About This Book

Of Form & Gather marks the dazzling debut of Felicia Zamora, whose poems concern themselves with probing questions, not facile answers. Where does the self reside? What forms do we, as human beings, inhabit as we experience the world around us? Echoing the collection's provocative title, final judge Edwin Torres writes: "Zamora has crafted a work that celebrates form as human evolution—the poem's breath, the poet's body—passing over time in a landscape thirsty for passage." Privileging journey over destination, Zamora's poems spur the reader to immerse herself in linguistic soundscapes where the physicality of the poems themselves is, in no small part, the point: poems that challenge us to navigate the word/world as both humans and things. Edwin Torres continues: "This is quietly revolutionary work.... A living palimpsest to newly awaken our social engagement." With the publication of this volume, the AndrĂ©s Montoya Poetry Prize, now in its seventh edition, emphatically makes good on its aim to nurture the various paths that Latino/a poetry is taking in the twenty-first century.

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Information

Year
2017
ISBN
9780268101800
Subtopic
Poesia
To be out of—dually other
Decoy
I am the ocean bottom; my craters full of bioluminescence
twinkling in heavy, heavy dark. Who speaks of the float circling
inside them? Cut open a creature; what do you expect? A line of
labels & a thing exposed; think clever me, let’s slice an eel, pare down
parts, see how we mean. Now you, eel under knife. Now me. Hold
the blade, away from anything that tears, cull the power of light,
of adaptation, the fish in heavy wet with a glowing lure on its
head; that’s something. Do you need to collect all parts to be
something? When first you swim, flesh remembers amniotic
everything; you on the other hand, ignore the innate sense of
fluidity. When I say you I mean I; a little I/Thou never hurt as
long as you fasten other’s oxygen mask first; I am a giant tube
worm, plume scarlet; think hemoglobin; think what carries in presence
of sulfide; think insides I wear out; & you consider float; the decoy
made of bob & shine & teeth & fins & & &
Physics of where we stand
You draw a line; the top of the aspen
resembles a pitchfork, leaves quaking
green fire & we all contemplate death
separately; internal
dialogue rolls ticker-taping the mind out
& hibernation is less lifestyle choice than
instinct. You bring yourself to the wide
open page & the page bullies you back. The
line never empties, only
a string of lights & colors bouncing off each other;
inertia inertia; in wait for the act upon;
matter: always seeing demons in the trees.
I long to be your property of force; to
reference nothing political; you turn
from me divided: face half shadow, half.
No Fisher
So you’re a fisherman? Strange phrases from strangers. You by the
lake with a box. The thought of tackle; of hoist & lower, this
system in levers. What you didn’t catch, releases you. What you
did catch, releases you; always a thing baiting for. So many
forewarnings in retrospect. The whale in the sand does not
resemble the whale in your mind. To be out of; two-realms;
dually other. The whale in your mind spins on axes, out of water,
3-D, fully puffed & bloated to full whaleness. Your mind knows
full whaleness requires water, salt, & depth—yet disobeys; your
mind knows not all the anatomical parts, yet knows what is not
whale. Your heart: a whale on land, sunken, containing the vision
you knew of it, boxed & discombobulated. The sun’s quiet chap
on your lips, just so, to remind. Ubiquity culls at the bones. &
this is not the ocean. So many forewarnings. & you, no fisher
here. What you bring before all bodies of: questions & a box.
Drift
Attend to the cranial side of your ear drum,
who speaks to who? Voice in the box; utters
behind; space thickens & mind becomes
becomes becomes—then
fleck in distance; failing capture; you drift
restless vertebrae, flesh in elongation,
witness sun pull the blanket of twilight over
head & give night one last gaze. Sweet
gesture in repeat; repeat
this moment & that moment linger under each
lid wipes the eye, wipes the eye; all swept in
conversation. Of body & landscape, speak
of keepers, roll the e’s in your jaw. Taste keep
in capture, how place dwells inside.
& wings made of matchsticks
Interrupt, mid-flap. Erase ablaze, once fire
catches. No red-tipped heads left to
count; all singe; all dust. What’s left to
cremate when the spirit hollows in fall? You
trace the stony bone that refuses to burn.
Only the sun’s magnetic love harvests
elements sewn deep in grooves of your
molars. You taste flight in porous regions,
hidden from spark & flame—rhythm
etches in undersides, in absence: this ash
of heart thinks to re-beat & we’re all
convective motion, in sprawl 
 in sprawl.
Before caught; before your lips devour
only light: an elm sapling sprouts from
your ribs & you almost postpone flight.
Roots tempt you, graze your soft tissues
& whisper seeds in your wrists & ankles.
To lade you in the wet; make womb of
dark spaces; promise—Do you believe in
mostly hydroge...

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