{ Build Yourself A Boat ~ poems ~ Camonghne Felix }

Build Yourself A Boat
Camonghne Felix
Haymarket Books, 2019

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I didn’t know art could do this. Do these. As in, I didn’t know a vision could project itself as singular and, with that projection, distract its own shape long enough to give periphery a stomach. Camonghne Felix is an asker and a teller. A thinker one rethinks so that one might get the chance to pose the same question a second time. How was fire born? Fire was born plural. Is nostalgia real? The aftermath of origin is real. Can you describe embodiment? Description is alone; description cannot swim.

Not my answers. Build Yourself A Boat is a book that marks its words and comes back for them.

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reflection by Barton Smock

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book is here:
https://www.haymarketbooks.org/books/1274-build-yourself-a-boat

Yolk – poems – Camonghne Felix

Yolk
poems, Camonghne Felix
Penmanship Books 2015

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mother, a mare overwrought with the front seat
of her son’s slaughter…

…every day of this trial he dies’ – {from} Zimmerman Testimonies: Day 1

Shrinking from regression in the withheld aftermath, poet Camonghne Felix, with Yolk, grounds the otherness of now in the levitations of a peeled-off then. With language like ‘adolescent moon’ and ‘immature pond’, this is a speaking that draws on the undertow to break hallelujahs over angel ash and this is verse to vandalize the dreamy blight. Yolk sleeps with its mouth open might it echo in the hole of a bloodless rabbit. Chalking the elsewhere, Felix is a student of presence. As there is no shortage of future evidence, Felix does not use hunger to prove starvation but instead deepens the meat in the shallows of a body wrongly imagined by lower foods. Leaves god in some diner pounding for salt.

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reflection by Barton Smock

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