The expected arrival into Miami is as they say
“on time.” A contract between belief and assurance makes for an orderly day.
But as planes fly low in these regions, she extends her arms to exceed the
line, a change in relative speed between two aerial masses; turbulence, its
aftermath, its angelic fart tracking the sky. (“Microcosmos”)
New
Jersey-born poet Jennifer Soong’s full-length debut is the wonderfully
expansive Near, At (New York NY:
Futurepoem, 2019), a collection of lyrics that explore structures of
philosophy, observation and thinking, articulating a book-length assemblage of
poems that attempt to write their way through and into discovery. “To discover
the most various / type of love,” she writes, at the opening of the title
sequence, “take a circle and stretch it till it bells flat like an oval. To /
practice the true length of difficulty, of coming back by way of the /
foreshortened, move along not one, but a nation of souls.” I’m fascinated by
Soong’s long lines and the long threads, her extended cadences of lyric thought;
something evident, as well, in the shorter poems, such as in the sequence
“Microcosmos,” as she writes:
the ground
In a small bit
as in a moment of
given sky or
as in (she thinks)
there floats
a plane
like a
plus
sign (“Microcosmos”)
There
is something about her work that stretches out the moment between arrival and
having arrived, reaching towards and finally reaching, set in the comma within
the book’s title. As she writes to close the short poem “The Voyage Nowhere,”
writing: “Hovered from above, what do they see, or else, what / am I but
semblance, the captain’s parrot, alternating / halfway across the sky between
silence and mimicry.”
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