Bharat jiva by kari edwards. This beautiful, evocative, deeply conscious book, a long poem, delves into language in an intimate but also earnestly, powerfully public way. There is an insistence in the poet's voice, a human cry for a human world to hear human utterances.
I confess I was in and out of the text, sometimes immersed, sometimes at a distance. edwards' words, for the most part, worked a magical number on me, and wherever I found myself in relation to them, I was always in awe of this wonderful creation.
My copy is now filled with pen marks and underlinings, as so many moments captured me in a way I wanted to hold on to. "there is nothing else but reiterative/mornings and days with varying permission"
Much of the text is printed in block style, so I am not sure how to quote with the line breaks. I will share a section that seemed particularly special and important, but realize it looks very different on the page:
"and again in the usual word place, can we
please, please, watch the thing that slowly
breaks the finger, moves along the body,
records codes, repeats to someone for some
kind of salvation?"