June 5, 2006

Mi barrio by Salwa C. Jabado

Julie: I'm not 100% certain how to read this poem or, rather, I'm not 100% certain I'm catching all of the nuances of the Greek chorus this one is lobbing at me. But I very much enjoyed the read, the little telling details, and that close. Two years ago, I don't think I would have liked this poem. The older I get, the broader my tastes become. I like things. I think it's supposed to work the other way around. I'm supposed to become refined. I'm supposed to be a snob. Perhaps I'll become a snob at 40. No, that's too soon. 45. Of course, it's easy to get broader tastes when you were a prig in a previous life. Someone should have smothered me.

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9/9, Thinking of My Brothers East of the Mountains by Wang Wei, trans. David Hinton

Julie: So I'm getting all psychologically comfy, thinking this one was going to be one of those gentle set pieces that seem to wax and wane in popularity but are waxing. In any case, it's like a lullaby with a mean streak. Lull lull lull slap. Very enjoyable. Huh. What does that analogy say about me?