Anyway, you’re not coming and I can’t have you this evening I have to put the flowers around my own throat and buy myself a film the red seats will be the violets of my lap. I’m going to begin now anointing myself with the oil of your absence. That is this book. And I made the book of you in your absence and I’ll come into the house and in the hot oil of your absence, my anointment a rose-shaped burn at my crown. I'll buy me flowers and cover my chest protecting my health in our violets. I can’t stop but I can have this open and we might communion then right among the spaces : between my side and inner arm, our outer arms, your inner arm and your thick torso and behind that your tight heart and the space between that nut and some energy around which there is no space We dip dates into a good wine and have communion. Have we the same mouth? Sometimes.
Shorthand
Emerging Author of the Month: Aisha Sasha John
Tell us about yourself.
I’m a poet and a dancer. Both my writing and my dance practices are spiritual practices. As a dancer, my work has recently been exclusively improvised, both without accompaniment and with improvising musicians. I consider my dance a prayer, a sort of exaltation through movement. My first poetry collection, The Shining Material, was published last year by BookThug. In it, I consider what grace is through the use of the self-portrait. The prosody of that book is intended to be a feast and is also trance-inducing. For me, that which induces trance or some sort of quiet space is a feast. Currently, I’m working on a manuscript calledThe Book of You. I’m not entirely sure what it’s about yet (or else I wouldn’t be writing it) but it might be a portrait via a series of letters. I know that in this work I will be asking about what honesty is, and I’m wondering if it might have something to do with desire and one’s comfort with/acknowledgement of various desires. There is a continuing investigation of grace in The Book of You too. Recently, a selection of it was published as a chapbook called Gimme yr little quiet.
Tell us about the piece you’ve decided to share.
This is a poem I wrote while reading some Sappho.
When and why did you realize you had a passion for writing?
I don’t know if I’ve ever “realized I had a passion for writing” much as I realized I had a passion for reading. And that was very early. I think maybe when I first learned to read—and I remember the exact moment—was probably the definitive point. Understanding that the groups of letters on the page corresponded to the words my mother was saying, and thus cumulatively to the meaning of the sentence, of the story, was astounding to me. It still is. It was so good, this reading business, that I wanted to be a part of it too. I wanted to do for others what had been done for me as a reader. And so I did. At this point, I need to write. I can’t not write. But that is because I made it a part of my living. I made it like that by doing it, writing regularly when I wanted to and also when I didn’t want to. The passion, then, is a product of a love for reading and a little bit of discipline.
What pieces of writing/authors have had the greatest impact on you?
This is too big of a question to answer precisely. So I will talk about the first poetry that made me not just want to write but to be a poet specifically—that is the poetry of Mr. Amiri Baraka. That decision was, and is, continually reinforced by the work of great and even good poets, but it was with Baraka that I got that first giddy giddy giddy feeling that manifested itself as ambition. Right now I am having that feeling with response to the work of Edmond Jabès, Aimé Césaire, and Jack Spicer.
What kind of writer do you aspire to be?
I aspire to be the kind of writer who goes and does what she needs to do.
How and when do you find time to write?
I don’t find time to write; I make time to write.
Dear Vishnu
They say Your skin is blue because You are infinite like the sky and the ocean of milk You rest on. I wish my skin was blue. Brown is boring, it blends into the dirt or concrete background. So I draw on my hands and arms with a blue ink pen. My teacher says that I can get ink poisoning but this only inspires me to draw more for I have heard that it was drinking poison that turned Lord Shiva’s skin dark blue.
I want to be a modern version of You. I would wear a peacock feather in my hair like You, maybe use my mom’s curling iron to match Your wavy locks and get my ears pierced. But my four arms would carry a walkman, a book, a candle and an apple. There should be a “Take Your Believer to Work Day” so I can study You in action, ask questions and take notes. I am jealous of Goddess Lakshmi, Your consort, for the eternity she gets to spend by Your side. Does she know how lucky she is? If You smile, she shares it. If You speak, she hears it. It’s not fair that only one can be so close.
When my mom prays, she becomes stiff as though one wrong gesture could displease You and result in her losing her job or worse, having to be reborn. I wish she knew the version of You that I know, the one whose adventures and victories I read about in my Amar Chitra Katha comic books. You are The Protector, the one that the demigods rush to in times of crisis. They are instantly soothed by the sight of You, decorated with flowers and gold, and Your compassionate counsel. Countless evil demons are slayed by Your mighty chakra or bow and arrow but You always appear calm, never angry, as though even destruction is an act of love. How do You do it? Sometimes there is a fire in me and when it comes out, it’s never as pretty.
Maybe it’s the blue that keeps You cool. If only I were blue.
Key to Success
I came from the mother lands of black people My roots are from Africa where we originated from My background is where rivers collide and the gold coast is formed I AM ME, and only I can decide what I am going to be I go to school for knowledge and education because education is key With education, it’s the only way I can be free, it’s the only way I can express the educated side of me Because as long as I stay in school, I can be successful in this world I call my life And within this world we can all be what we wanna be if we follow the blueprint that is set Out for us to see So don’t disrespect your elders if they’re trying to put you on the right path Just put your head up, and I’ll promise you won’t crash
Good Enough
Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough If all the cash in the world would be good enough When I think of you, I wonder if I could treat you well enough How can I be good enough when my state of mind is mindless? Doubt infects the mind like a blinding virus Clouding judgement until I’m feeling lifeless It’s like this could be the last chance to write this— Poem, how could I ever know on my own If I only doubt myself when I’m alone? So please tell me if I’m good enough Maybe it’s a misunderstanding between us You tell me you love me, but act like you’re sick of me I act like I don’t care, but it’s killing me inside I could have lied, when I’m with you pride— Is worn like something tight— When I’m alone, it’s the exact opposite. When I’m lying down on my bed, All I think about is whether or not I’m good enough.
Showcase
My ballet slippers are white as new My tutu is glittery and blue I kiss her on the cheek and here I go Off to the stage and see me glow Walk up the ladder, light dim, silence like no other My heart is pounding in my head, almost feels like I’m about to urinate Applause starts and down from the ceiling here I go Back straight, arms delicate now walk like a feather I am nervous and get the chills like cold weather I want to remind mommy’s little girl how we used to dance together No matter what obstacle, I’ll make it better I’ll always dance for her even if she is in a wheelchair The music of the violin was what she loved the most And the beach and the sand massaging her feet was her favorite memory But now things changed, despite I can’t hear her talk or see her dance I just need a smile and that’s what makes me feel marvelous Two weeks till the X-ray I pray that at least halfway she will make it okay Happy is where I would love her to stay And one day again we will dance ballet This dance is for her I would love her to know that dreams do come true Because here I am dancing for her Me being the swan in this play and defeating her pain This is my greatest joy and the end to this play A smile I got from her today Applause too for my first showcase