What struck me first about Edward Vidaurre’s “Insomnia: Love Poems” is the variety of styles and inspirations that have found their way in. From prose poem to sestina, the poet howls like Ginsberg and dances like Rumi through verses of love and longing, sadness and joy, social commentary and image-driven associations. There really is just as much of Sufi-esque ecstacy in here as there is Beatnik cynicism. It makes for an imbalanced yet heady combination—which is just the right blend for a collection that comes from the particular consciousness that exists between dreaming and daylight.
The poem “Sleep Apnea” opens the collection on a moment of physical unease and metaphysical imbalance, which lets you know right off that this book is going to take you out of any normal patterns of awareness. We’re not asleep, but we’re not totally awake yet either, and moving from one poem to the next is a journey that echoes the smooth but seemingly random shifting from one dream to another over the course of a night. Vidaurre’s language slides seamlessly between English and Spanish, but even when I don’t understand the vocabulary, I never felt lost for the emotion. These poems are rich with shadows, echoes of music and language and explorations of love that carry through the dark.
The book’s subtitle is “Love Poems,” but don’t be fooled by that term’s basic association. There is romantic love here, but also so much more: parental devotion, physical affection and sexual desire, social injustices, psychological questioning, and the simple pleasures of everyday living. As Katherine Hoerth says in the book’s introduction: “These poems illustrate what life is like when you live with your eyes open, bloodshot and always awake.” Always awake, for better or worse, and Edward Vidaurre is celebrating every shadowed minute of it. It was a pleasure to take this sleepless, poetic journey with him.