Tag: The Voracious Bibliophile

Poem for the Day: September 27th, 2021

From the Taiwan Cypress in Alishan by Jennifer Huang 

it’s true
they say
we can’t help
family

sometimes they walk
after dusk searching
in fear
half of us have disappeared
our fragrance is that of god
we wail for the lost
axed down for profit
their knives scratch our surface
beneath our shadows
for something we
dissipate and become

Today’s poem originally appeared in the May 2021 issue of Poetry. In addition to their writing, Huang is also the Independent Publicist at The Shipman Agency. Their debut collection, Return Flight: Poems, is due to be released on January 18th, 2022 by Milkweed Editions.

Update: I had some issues getting today’s poem to format in the way the author originally intended, so I am including a screenshot below of the way the text is supposed to appear on screen. It is taken from the Poetry Foundation’s website.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Poem for the Day: September 26th, 2021

The Forage House by Tess Taylor

Altogether Elsewhere by Tess Taylor 

They multiply, these cities of the heart,
these rooms we lodge our bodies in.

Brief beds: one California night
I swam between the humpbacked coastal ranges

and woke Scotch-tinged, wet, newly dreaming
to smokestacks and sharp dawn in Queens.

Light split the branches of fresh trees.
A stage-set life implied itself from props.

Now morning— pigeon flocks, construction sites,
a Western freeway's glint, a garden filled

with verbena, sage, my childhood light—
this midsummer, too, will go so soon.

O unfinishable homes: You each feel so real so briefly.
I feel you incomplete me, incompletely.

The Forage House by Tess Taylor was published in 2013 by Red Hen Press and is now available to order wherever books are sold.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

From the Gram: Do I Need More Books?

As Ariana Grande once famously sang, “I see it. I like it. I want it. I got it.” Was Ariana in a bookstore? I mean, probably.

What a silly question, right? You can never have too many books. People in my life have frequently called me a book hoarder, but I’d like to think I’m a book curator. I am telling the story of my life via the books I choose to own and display. Whether or not that’s just making an excuse, I really don’t care at this point. As Ariana Grande once famously sang, “I see it. I like it. I want it. I got it.” Was Ariana in a bookstore? I mean, probably.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Poem for the Day: September 25th, 2021

Tongues by Justin Danzy 

Becoming the raspberry stain on the pink of   your cheek,
a tongue’s soft landing spot. Becoming the empty ritual,
what can’t be said. Becoming intercession, my language
becoming yours, the blessing of tongues. Becoming the river
in the belly, implanted language, dead boy’s song. Becoming dry
with manhood. Becoming the doors we’ve closed, those I’ve learned
to open with a tongue. Becoming seen in the body, witnessed, becoming
clarity, the fear of it. Becoming the name I’ve been given,
the honorific, a placeholder. Becoming postured
to my Father’s dilemma, the inherited tongue. Becoming
what I wish I could be on my own. Becoming kept,
becoming stolen, becoming made free to leave when I am not yet ready
to go. Becoming the might of what we serve, the oft-
invisibled. Becoming don’t look back, pillar of salt. Becoming idoled.
Becoming possessed. Becoming the body’s mettle, the tongue’s chisel.
Becoming compass. Becoming the help that I needed, my Father’s hidden
forgiveness. Becoming the secrets I hope to taste in you,
the wounded tongue, braided blood covenant. Becoming forbidden’s
starting point, a bold beginning, the flaying of   what I do not yet know I believe.

“Tongues” appears in the September 2021 issue of Poetry, which is now available to buy from newsstands everywhere or to read on the Poetry Foundation’s website.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Quote for the Day: September 24th, 2021

I am still trying to understand how we can think so highly of someone else and so little of ourselves. So, when it feels like every breath leaves a bruise and your hopes are set on the love returning, just know that I wish I could hold you when the darkness feels too great. I wish I could comfort you and remind you the sun will reappear. I wish you could see that all the scars are a reminder; you will survive the ache.

Courtney Peppernell, Pillow Thoughts IV

I apologize that today’s quote is coming later than usual. Life has been pretty hectic for the past couple of days but I want you all to know that I very much appreciate you taking time out of your busy days to read the stuff I post here. All my love, forever and always.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Poem for the Day: September 24th, 2021

White Apples and the Taste of Stone: Selected Poems 1946-2006 by Donald Hall

Affirmation by Donald Hall

Let us stifle under mud at the pond’s edge

and affirm that it is fitting

and delicious to lose everything.

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the shore,
and a friend from school drops
cold on a rocky strand.
If a new love carries us
past middle age, our wife will die
at her strongest and most beautiful.
New women come and go. All go.
The pretty lover who announces
that she is temporary
is temporary. The bold woman,
middle-aged against our old age,
sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand.
Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years.
Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything.

Donald Hall (1928-2018) was considered one of the preeminent writers of his generation. He authored more than fifty books across several genres but he is most well known for his poetry. He was awarded the National Medal of Arts in 2010, which is the highest honor the United States government bestows upon artists and arts patrons.

White Apples and the Taste of Stone: Selected Poems, 1946-2006, the collection from which today’s poem is taken, was published in 2006 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and is now available to purchase wherever books are sold.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Poem for the Day: September 23rd, 2021

My Village: Selected Poems 1972-2014 by Wu Sheng and John Balcom (Translator)

American Citizenship by Wu Sheng and John Balcom (Translator)

Out here in the sticks
You rarely encounter such genius:
"Come, come, come to Taiwan U
Go, go, go to the US"
Words passed with envy from mouth to mouth
Giving the hometown high hopes

Then I heard you've become an American citizen
You're very busy
With house payments
Credit cards
You rarely have time to write home
You must know unspeakable hardship
At home, mother
Is busy as always
Covering our tuition
Doing never-ending farm work
                season after season
For you to study abroad and
Leave the family in debt

You ought to remember
                at the end of the year you left
Father, who struggled all his life
In wind and rain, in sorching sun and bitter cold
Died in a car accident
Leaving all life's difficulties
To mother, who can't even read
For more than ten years,
                From morning till night
Our illiterate mother
Has had so much
She wanted me to write and tell you
—how she worried about you

And I ought to tell you
Every time there's a wedding in the village
Mother insists
I write your name
In the register
Because you are the eldest son
Our older brother

You left your backward hometown
More than ten years ago
To become an American citizen
In every airmail letter home
You express your disappointment and anger
At your unsuccessful brothers and sisters

Yes, we've all disappointed you
You're ashamed of us
Like this small plot of land
This stupid plot of land
Which provides you no sense of pride or glory
Because we are unwilling to study
Those proud ABCs
We're only willing to work, struggle and sweat in silence
In our homeland
I heard you've become an American citizen
You're very busy
You must have suffered great hardship
I don't know if you miss mother
                The way she misses you
She's growing older thinking about you
Do you ever think about
The potatoes we ate as kids?
They were cheap and tasty
I don't know why
You are so busy in that foreign land
And for whom

1978

My Village: Selected Poems 1972-2014 was released in 2020 by Zephyr Press and is now available to order wherever books are sold.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter and Instagram @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.