Silver Road
essays, maps & calligraphies
Kazim Ali
Tupelo Press, 2018
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‘my hunger hungry to tell me’ – {from} Search Me
I have told myself repeatedly, in context, that the brain is there to recount for the body how form was ripped from non-existence. I know to know wrongly. This Silver Road, by Kazim Ali…I’m not sure it’s real. By which I mean one can be drawn to a thing that leads to its own unprovable arrival. By which I mean I’m not sure it happened. I have been trying to write about it for weeks. I won’t say words failed me, but will say I have been worried the words will know how I’ve responded. Silver Road is spotless. Is deeply marked. I scrawled, or thought to my others, throughout:
weather the self
mother more creatively
death is an environmentalist
page 84, the poem ‘Theft’. return to it and say again fuck.
I have sought solitary permissions, and have done so to be convinced I’ve become. Ali corrects loneliness. This is the same book that changed my past.
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reflection by Barton Smock
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book is here:
https://www.tupelopress.org/product/silver-road-essays-maps-calligraphies/
Reblogged this on kingsoftrain.
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