I have to live: Poems

by Aisha Sasha John

A new collection ablaze with urgency and radiant inquiry from a 2015 finalist for the Trillium Book Award for Poetry

A demand and promise; an obligation and challenge; a protest and call: I have to live.
Juiced on the ecstasy of self-belief: I have to live.
A burgeoning erotics of psychic boldness: I have to live.
In which sensitivity is recognized as wealth: I have to live.
Trumpeting the forensic authority of the heart: I have to live.
This is original ancient poetry.
It fashions a universe from its mouth.

Genres: Poetry, Canada, Nonfiction, Womens

160 pages, Paperback

Published April 11, 2017

About the author

Aisha Sasha John is a dance improviser and poet. She was born in Montreal, but spent most of her childhood in Vancouver, and currently lives in Toronto. John has a BA in African Studies and Semiotics from the University of Toronto and an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Guelph. Her first book, The Shining Material, was published by BookThug in 2011.

(from http://elevenelevenjournal.com/issue-...)

Reviews

[chantel nouseforaname · Rating 1 out of 5]

Way too ambiguous to tell any sort of story outside of a little about loss and a lot about apathy.

These poems were too pretentious, unaffected or apathetic to share anything to give a fuck about except the fact that she "has to live" and has to carry on.. which congratulations girl, you're alive! But are you living in any way that's not just perpetually questioning your own existence and raging at people for sort of being in your way? Doesn't seem like it!

I rolled my eyes quite a bit at all the seemingly underdeveloped ideas put forth as "provocative" concepts or like complete ideas ironic in their incompletion.. Did I relate to some of them? Yeah, I related to a few statements like

"I keep saying I submit and I do not. I have to attend to my pussy. I have to attend to my heart."

I related to that shit - but was it worth the time I spent reading the rest of these incomplete thoughts and random ideas placed side by side? Nah yo, I don't think so.

[Liz Howard · Rating 5 out of 5]

By far the most pleasurable work I've read this year.

[Kirsten Douglas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Smelling salts as a collection of poetry.

[Chantel Green · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is the single worst piece of writing I've ever laid eyes on.

[Nicole Penney · Rating 1 out of 5]

What did I just read.

[Prairie Fire Review of Books · Rating 5 out of 5]

From prairiefire.ca. Reviewed by Kara Stanton

This summer I ate a lot of grapefruit. One day on a whim I bought a whole bag and for the next week and a half I consumed one grapefruit daily, marvelling over the sound of the pieces peeling apart, the luminescent pink flesh, the piquant feel of it on my tongue, its sting bitter in my mouth.

You could say summer is a season for feeling pink: blood thrums to the cheeks, a sunburn blossoms on the chest, the palms are hot and blotchy and slick. I skid off the pavement on my bike one day and came up with a knee and elbow skinned and raw. If it was a bodily kind of vulnerability, it was one synced to the emotional and psychic stickiness I was living with. In summer everything feels risen to the surface, hot and pink and written right across the skin for anyone to see.

In Aisha Sasha John’s I have to live, this rawness is all over and it’s all a bit too much. Everywhere the speaker encounters the mushy middle of the world that seems too soft to keep itself together. “I like it when we give the world to itself / Folding it to it / Like a soft-shelled taco,” John writes (31). If the world is the shell, we are the filling that spills unceremoniously out, the sloppy creatures we only pretend not to be. And yet, these moments of recognition and generosity offer startling grace. To be open to the world staring back at you, and to greet it with open eyes feels like the central objective of this book. “Hi, God,” the speaker writes.

But this radical openness comes with its own consequences; feeling emotions too intensely to bear, grappling with a world that does not always seem as though it will come through to rise and meet us where we are. In “It’s Saturday. I meet you, get soft,” John confronts the matter of vulnerability:

I have to trust people
Or else I’m too busy.

I feel nothing but foolish
And also okay
Because what will happen is I will
Continue to live.

And then one day I’ll die. (47)

I have to live deals in this; the precious, tiny mussel heart of you that you hate to expose, the fleshy insides you couldn’t work to make cute if you tried, and the necessity of exposing them anyway. The poems champion the courage to pry your shell apart rather than quivering to cover up—to let your insides sit and crinkle in the open air; if only because, as the refrain chants, I have to live.

The poems in the collection are small and spare. The lines gather around the left-hand margin; they don’t waste energy or expend words, but rather embody a language of survival and of necessity. “Why should I know what I’m talking about / When I can merely feel it?” the speaker asks (5). “What would I write if I were going to live?” John’s epigram implores. There is a slowness to the form that marries itself to a kind of bluntness, a refusal of pretension. “I’m cleansed of / Everything stupid,” the speaker tells us (94). “You have to worship the fact of life and not its / Corny by-products. // Art is for romantics. / Art is for stupid people” (6).

This insistence in cutting through bullshit and facing the world head-on illustrates a certain kind of toughness. Not toughness for its own sake, or for machismo, but a tenacity that arises out of struggle and that manifests as a firm resolve to carry on and weather the world. As the speaker writes in “And a withering pear I can’t eat”:

I have to have problems I suppose
To tenderize
My sweetness.
Or else I would have a
Very, very hard sweetness. (9)

This balance of softness and hardness, toughness and pliability twines through the text. Later, the speaker returns to assert its necessity: “I have to be fibrous / So as not to be consumed. / I have to / fucking live” (99).

And the bluntness does serve to accentuate the tenderness, to make even more precious the moments of connection we glimpse through the poems. “I hold my own hand firmly,” the speaker writes in “Strong basic love”—“Look at us / I am holding you in my face” (64). These moments of contact, the ways in which bodies hold each other or at least memories of each other, are key to the collection. Quiet and small rather than dramatic or glamorous, they invite us to witness bodies in the midst of a sloppy try:

My hand is not steady

But my heart wet

And lithe.

Lend me your neck or your palm

And I will draw something ugly by accident. (106)

These are poems with bite, but also with tongue.

Through the book, the self is stripped bare again and again, pushed out into a raw sun that grazes the marbled body. Despite this abrasion, a language of softness throbs and pulses on—in a rabbit fur coat, the soft middle of a blackberry, the body. We are eating and mouth-y, weeping and oozy, tuned into pleasure and pain and the vicissitudes of the sky. “Something softens me,” the speaker tells us in the opening poem, “something spills out my pores as light” (3). Whatever this ineffable something, it holds a spiritual quality—channeling it becomes a means of channeling love, becomes a kind of communion with God and the world. This is what I have to live offers: the humility to accept what the world can give, opens the pores to it, and listen, and look, and say hi.

[Ann-Mary · Rating 1 out of 5]

Horrible fanfic on Rigoberta Bandini’s song mashed with pieces of “wisdom”, like teaching you what Past Simple “actually” is.

DNF 39%

[Elaina Alex · Rating 4 out of 5]

Unapologetic and steeped in self-realization, Aisha Sasha Johns’ I have to live. is a collection of poems that intimately engage in the quotidian through the author’s blunt eye. The book’s title makes multiple appearances throughout the text, suggesting a sort of mantra that Johns’ both insists and struggles to effectuate. Johns also considers her femininity and how it is sometimes at odds with that which is conventional. Her poems, ‘What is bread?’ and ‘He thinks I should be glad because they’, acutely encapsulate the essence of these overarching themes.
In the first chapter of John’s book’s, I encountered ‘What is bread?’ and seriously questioned whether or not I would be able to complete this reading. Never having engaged in such abstract and quotidian poetry, I was incredulous at her deep pondering for something as banal as bread. However, it was only when I began to share the supposed absurdity of this poem with others that I recognized the brilliance of John’s poem. Bread is a fundamental part of humanity; a basic and hallowed source of life – a direct reference to her title mantra. To question if “bread is women” (13) alludes to woman’s ability to procreate and the passing of nourishment from mother to child. This allusion exemplifies Johns’ femininity and potential role as a woman; though she shows indifference to motherhood, she is still able to relate and convey this idea of motherly nourishment. Then, by asking is if bread is “youth” (13) she continues this narrative of sustainment and human life as bread becomes the fuel of growth. This idea of growth is subverted as bread becomes a source of “sorrow” (13) referring to hunger, and therefore a lack of bread or nourishment. However, she then questions the leaps she has made in metaphor; in asking if bread is simply “a marshmallow” (13) she wrestles with the possibility that the common bread does not possess the agency that she has attributed to it. Thus Johns’ presents conflict between the ordinary, or quotidian, in relation to its extraordinary implications.
‘He thinks I should be glad because they’ considers Johns’ title mantra while making subtle reference to the adversity she faces as a woman and artist. Invoking the “idea of Aisha” (50) suggests a sort of brand, a way in which to market whatever constitutes the figure of Aisha, likely in relation to the publication of her art. However, as she repeatedly states, “they” (50) are not interested in what Aisha is, but rather the idea of her – effectively confining her to conventions that conform to this “idea of Aisha” (50). In a book so intent on self-actualization this objectification is extremely problematic. Furthermore, the idea of Aisha could be referring to a number of this things including her performance, her attitude, her physical look, etc., all of which are imbued with suggestions of the objectification of women. Johns’ ultimately takes control of the poem and the way in which she is perceived by repeating that she is not the idea of Aisha, but simply “Aisha” (50).
Johns’ engagement with the quotidian brilliantly manifests itself in the simplicity of her formal presentation. The uncluttered pages, accessible language, lack of formal poetic structure and frequent absence of punctuation create a rather monotonous reading that is reflective of the quotidian content. The envelope structure of ‘What is bread?’ and the reiteration of “I am” (50) in ‘He thinks I should be glad because they’ draw attention to the marriage of form and content as the minimalistic pages pre-emptively illustrate the straightforward content. Johns’ candid engagement with the everyday enables readers to relate, ultimately urging them to pursue her mantra of having to live.

[Dani · Rating 3 out of 5]

Montreal poet, dancer and full-time artist Aisha Sasha John published her fourth poetry collection I have to Live in 2017. Much of the poetry in this book was not written with the express intention of publishing, but rather as a symptom of time spent away working on her dance and a notebook filled with personal frustrations. The title "I have to live" manifests itself as a kaleidoscope across the pieces, often a powerful, personal protest and sometimes a return to simplicity, but remains consistently unapologetic. I Have to Live also stands in the broader context of the Black Lives Matter movement as a compelling voice of each individual within the crowds.
The writing itself is simple and direct and adopts a very honest tone. This is a collection of poems that approach life bluntly. They speak the truth and refrain from embroidering the mundane experiences that tie us all together regardless of race, class, gender or any other cultural rift. This approach gives Aisha's deeply personal poems a power and accessibility that hold the potential to resonate with a broad audience.
"Regardless" gives us a good sense of what the phrase "I have to live" encompasses: The poem lists a trail of "If I..." statements ranging from themes of punishment and social pressure such as "If I am judged" or "If I am dismissed" to themes of prestige and achievement and eventually childish statements like "If I'm coo-coo". She ends them all with the simple statement "I have to live". This is a clear protest against social constraints but also a statement of solidarity to oneself no matter how much or little a person fits into the mold of society. "I have to live" fights the rigid social boundaries that label anything out of line as worthless and puts every trait, whether "stupid", "celebrated" or "crazy" on the same plane under a context of the mere existence that unites us all.
It goes to show why Aisha included so many mundane themes throughout this collection such as "I spread butter on the darkest rye" which describes a stream of consciousness account of buttering toast and sullying a pen in the process. It is an assertion that behind our social image, everyone lives an ordinary reality filled with simple forgotten experiences such as "wondering if it's sanitary/To leave the ketchup outside all the time".
All things considered, the context only goes so far, as one can only write so much about mundane topics before the writing itself becomes boring and repetitive. It is sometimes difficult to make out whether a poem was demonstrating simplicity or whether it was simply bland. Many of the pieces in I have to live could have been omitted to create a potent collection of truly remarkable poetry composed of only those pieces that best represent the spectrum of themes the title phrase encompasses. While I have to live provides an insightful take on the human condition that is rarely voiced, it is not particularly entertaining to read due to the themes it attempts to demonstrate.

[Nicholas Gillam · Rating 4 out of 5]

I very much enjoyed reading I have to live by Aisha Sacha John; a book of poems — mostly short — but very moving in their simplicity of language and visceral tone — where I was swept up into myself and the book as I read short poem after short poem, some longer but most less than a page long. Some line in the book were uncomfortable to read in their bluntness and colloquial arrangement but as a book and as a whole I very much enjoyed reading I have to live and I found it very easy to read because of the length of the pieces and the everyday language being used in them.
The overall work feels feminine even though I can’t exactly describe why or find precise examples except for a few first person anatomy references and the worldview within the works. The poems are written in a natural prose with no normal meter as if John were writing as fast as she could to get her ideas out; trying to put pen to paper as fast as her ideas were coming to her. Reading the poems and seeing the prose and formatting of texts, they feel at times like a mixtape where the individual pieces were written during different times and in different circumstances and mindsets with different goals in mind then compiled together later. This mixtape feel goes away as you read further into the book and find themes and motifs that recur, but the overall arrangement of the pieces in the book — despite being arranged very strictly into seven different parts — still has an of-the-moment and on-the-spot feel as a freestyle rap or improvised guitar solo; very cool but can get tedious in long form.
Aisha Sacha John is a full time writer from Montreal who travels back and forth from Toronto while composing and reading her poetry. I was excited for her reading in class because I enjoyed her book and found certain poems within very strong and interesting but I was disappointed with her performance. When she read a poem she was very dull with a monotone cadence and no eye contact and when she was in between pieces doing crowd work she seemed to be overcompensating for her lacklustre readings by jumping around and yelling. Besides her performance, the poems were easy to bite into.
Two poems in particular which I found got the message and atmosphere of the book as a whole are the closing piece of part three entitled Blood and the very next poem following and the opening piece of part four (part four being called “Rat vs. Lamb”) entitled A Beach. Blood is one of the longer works in the book consisting of a few lines over many pages and deals with the experience of being a woman as John understands it to be, the woman as related to the man, the woman as she understands herself, angst and anger at nothing in particular but everything at the same time, confusion of character — here being author —, and triumph in the recurring phrase “I have to live” all of which are repeatedly dipped into topics and themes throughout the book and would make a good title track and statement if this was an album.
A Beach is quite opposite to Blood but it showcases the other side of the spectrum of the book for it is a very short poem of only a few lines but it captures the same tones and themes as the long works. These two pieces, when taken side-by-side, make the whole of the book; if you were to want a summary of the book as a whole — how it works as poetry, the style, the form, the arrangement of lines, the tones, themes, and motifs — these two poems would do the trick. All-in-all I enjoyed reading Aisha Sacha John’s I have to live very much and would recommend it.

[Kayla Van · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aisha Sasha John’s recent collection of poetry, I have to live--published with McClelland & Stewart Press in April of 2017--demands that the body and the self are venerated. It is her third collection, highly anticipated as following critically acclaimed THOU and The Shining Material. Aisha Sasha John is an African-Canadian multidisciplinary art-force. Her creative productions defy easy classification, as she simultaneously exists as poetess, dancer & choreographer, singer, visual artist, life-coach and activist. In I have to live, John’s prose captures epiphanies of the everyday and releases them without arrogance or pretence, and without judgment. She skilfully blends the cosmic and commonplace to encompass the complexities of the self-reflexive post-modern spirit, at once asserting the materiality of life in $20 bills (14), chips and tacos (106 & 40), high-top boots (109) and juice (37), while maintaining their connection to the transcendental body and soul. This transcendance is both tender and hard-hitting in the way it juggles melancholia, humour and spice. All of these tonal elements are present in her poem ‘I was a born a baby’. She juxtapozes her birth as a fitful first encounter with air, with the heel-support of the boots gifted by her mother--“The allegory of the $50 high-tops” (110)--to finally land on musing about potential costumes for her show “that will show [her] clavicle / but cover [her] tiddies”. This playfully visceral interplay between powerful birth imagery, materiality and the body, distinguishes her multi-vocality as an artist. As in her life, she exists in various spheres at once: the mental environment of conception and imagination, the inevitable outer environment of surroundings and objects and the outward intimacy of the body. Furthermore, her poetic vision is unapologetically personal in its expression of experience, and its transmission of feeling and insight that can speak beyond the particularity from whence it came to reach the audience with urgent messages of self-love, self-belief and self-assertion. This responds to the fierce mantra-esque imperative that pulses through the body of work: I have to live. It echoes as a right, a declaration--Aisha is Arabic for ‘alive’--and an incantation. Her defence of self-love confronts and engages the reader in ‘Strong basic love’. She elucidates the fundamentals of love as “A doctrine / An orientation / A location / Within a relation / An arrangement --”(64), the wording is urgent and staccato. She then layers the poetic matryoshka doll of ‘Strong / Basic love / In silk”. Silk being an organic, fine, lustrous and soft thread that she will custom-make “as a shield” so as to “hold [her] own hand firmly”. The seemingly non-sequitor lines merge to form potent imagery of self defending self. Hand-in-hand, the selves directly urge the reader to acknowledge: “Look at us / I am holding you in my face / Look at me”. This direct address is vivid. Aisha Sasha John looks the reader square in the face, graphically incorporating and blending the imagined other with her own face, her experience, her message of self-belief. This poem can be read as a triumphant exclamation to self-love to herself and the outside world alike, while other poems may feel as though the reader is merely witnessing a hushed whisper of encouragement that she is gifting to herself alone. The tonal variation of her work is radical. Aisha Sasha John’s wit, humour, compassion, and honesty flourish with the spirit of everyday survival.

[Victoria · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have to live published in 2017 by Canadian poet and dance choreographer Aisha Sasha John is a sincere, empowering and vital piece of work that embraces quotidian. John lives a very quotidian style in the sense that she writes about things she’s experiencing and feeling at that particular moment. Each day, Aisha wrote poems in regards to what she was doing and feeling. She wasn’t excepting her poem collection to be anything more than poems, but ultimately it turned into her third book. Johns work read aloud, as well as on written on paper are very intimate, but in performance her emotions remain composed. Even if the poem is about something that angers her, she stays self-possessed and shares minimal feeling, but at the same time conveys something extremely powerful.
Before opening the book, I was intrigued by the title. “I have to live” is a very efficacious statement. One can take it lightly and not invest much time into it, but I find it sets the tone for the entirety of the book because everytime I read a poem, I related it back to the title and how the book inspires people to live the physical and emotional life they want. Although I enjoyed every single poem in this book, there were a few of them that I loved. The first poem is titled “And a withering pear I can’t eat” and the second is titled “Regardless.”
Part 1 of Aisha’s book introduces a poem titled “And a withering pear I can’t eat” On page 4. Although this poem is only nine lines, it introduces the tough realities associated with life. The poem is essentially about her hunger and how she wants to eat because she knows she has too, but she’s lazy and wishes she didn’t have too. She uses something as simple as eating to convey the idea that we all follow standards, and sometimes, we don’t want too, and we shouldn’t have too. Furthermore, the poem ends with “And I barely even read” which made me look at the poem in another perspective. She speaks of laziness and hunger and then introduces a whole other topic of reading. In doing so, she can be addressing time constraints. The idea that there is always something to do and sometimes you just don’t want too. This concept of laziness and time relate to the entirety of the book because it portrays the idea of humans confining themselves to the standards of society, which in turn not letting you fully live.
In part 2 of Aisha’s poems on page 53, readers are presented to “Regardless.” The poem begins every line with the words “if I” and the following is a compliment or an insult. The use of a personal pronoun makes the whole reading experience much more personal. However, I don’t think this poem is definitively only about herself; she’s generalizing the divide between individuals and how people judge one another way too easily. She’s saying that she can feel or be one thing, one day, but the next she could be someone completely different, and no one should be allowed to stop her from doing that. This motive of being who you want to be is solidified simply states in the final lines of the poem “who gives a fuck? I have to live.” I chose this poem about the book because it demonstrates the idea of living the life YOU want to live. The idea that you cannot fall victim to what others say about you because then you will never fully live.

[Alison Robertson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Inspiring and empowering! Aisha Sasha John is a full time poet and performer; from Montreal and based out of Toronto. I devoured every page of her bite sized poems in her most recent book, “I have to live.” I say bite sized, but some were substantial lists, or spaced out portions. This book presents itself in a diary like form and almost as a confessional, with regards to exclusive first person, emotional insight, and recurrent visceral evaluation. While reading, I feel like I began to know Aisha Sasha John through an instinctual monologue that accumulated in her work. Published in April 2017, the title of this book, “I have to live” was a response to the black lives matter movement, by making the statement more immediate in the first person. This statement is repeated almost as a mantra throughout the book. Many of John’s poems are centred around the quotidienne; relatable human sensations but deeply rooted in her subjective experience and a feminine physicality. John’s tone is intimate and vulnerable, yet demanding. She refuses to apologize for what may seem like menial daily happenings. In saying “I have to live”, it is like she is making a commitment to the defence of the ordinary, because it is vital to one’s existence. As an ambassador of the quotidienne, John’s poems are laced with a charming candidness, exhibited through her text message like prose. There are two poems in particular that I feel express the self actualizing edict that this book sets out to make. The first titled, “I decided that I was a planet and I was a planet.” In the following few lines, John flips the title into the present tense; “I decided that I was a planet and I am.” This is a declaration of existence. This poem is one of the spaced out, portioned kind; wrapping to the next page before it is done. Each poem could stand on its own but there is also a narrative created, regressing from the confidence of the first page, and visiting a more self doubting state of mind or collection of feelings. With each page the poem flips the previous apology for existence, into a self affirming will to life. The second poem is only two lines; one of which being the title. John writes, “Adornment is exaltation enacted // I am an earing of the lord.” This calls out a prophecy of self love and acceptance, through a precious image of one’s existence, as a divine expression of happiness. The first poem I mentioned is much more exemplary of the dominant colloquial style throughout the book. However the second is a beautiful example of the little gems of eloquence that I find myself reading again and again. Themes of personal resilience, spirituality, relationships, and vitality are woven from start to end of Aisha Sasha John’s, “I have to live”. It’s a satisfying and beautiful read. I would definitely recommend it!

[Nikita Moreau · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I have to live”, a collection of audacious poems written by author, dancer and performer, Aisha Sasha John. Author of “The Shining Material” as well as “Thou”. The title, “I have to live” a mantra that takes a stand in committing to life itself. John candidly deconstructs the ideas of self realization, self declaration, self love, resilience, the dynamics of various relationships and so much more throughout her new collection. She effortlessly approaches and executes these monumental ideas, which leaves a lasting impression. As a whole “I have to live” is accessible and of its time.
This is seen through “And a withering pear I can’t eat” as the speaker embodies the subject of social criticism and self analysis. Almost every line begins or carries the pronoun “I”, making this poem amongst all others in this collection, personal. Moreover, the speaker uses the second person to examine and criticize social constructs such as “art”. The speaker manifests their personal views, insisting that art is for vulnerable through tone and the use of the word “stupid”: “Art is for romantics / Art is for stupid people” (6). Examining the by-products of life, the speaker guides the second person with the following instructions: “You have to worship the fact of line and not its / Corny by-products (6). The speaker is persuasive regarding their thoughts and criticism. The reader is questioned, “You’ve been so sorry. / Why have you been sorry?” (7). Writing in the second person throughout the collection is intriguing. Making the reader question themselves throughout “I have to live”. In addition, the speaker becomes unreliable as the poem comes to an end, as it is stated “It’s true I hardly know what’s going on” (9). Although, this makes the speaker relatable, even more so as they characterize themselves as imperfect in the final lines. “Though I have to have problems I suppose / To tenderize / My sweetness. / Or else I would have a / Very, very hard sweetness” (9).
Aisha Sasha John, creates a collection in which all negative connotations of poetry being “pretentious” is lost. This is highlighted in “He thinks I should be glad because they”. The title itself becomes a part of a bigger monologue, in the same way “I have to live” does. Playing with the idea of the self and self love, the speaker is provoked by “…the idea of Aisha” (50). Arguing that “I am not the idea of Aisha” (50). As seen in many of her poems, John dabbles writing in the first and second person. Although minimalist, “Aisha” comes across to readers as bold and resilient through not only this poem, but the entire book. “I am not the idea of Aisha” is protested, and demands to be questioned through its repetition and ends with a brutally and honest truth, “I am Aisha” (50). Leaving a lasting impression on its readers.

[Sara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aisha Sasha John’s latest book titled “I have to live” makes us return to the basics. Initially, the title strikes a chord with readers; It is relatable, truthful and insistent. Her use of simplistic language, small font, and short prose make for a style that is stripped down, intimate and minimalistic. This straightforward style is also reflective of the words she puts to paper. The work is divided into seven parts, with poems discussing everyday experiences, notions of self-worth and resilience.

Occurring throughout the book, John reiterates the idea that living is a must; physically and emotionally. She consistently returns to the single phrase that shaped and ultimately named her book: I have to live. These 4 simple words shape the entirety of her work and are the leading motivation behind every poem. In section 2, on page 53, we come across the poem “Regardless”, containing 34 lines beginning with the words: “If I”. The use of a personal pronoun makes this poem personal and profound, reading: “If I am judged / If I am punished / If I am dismissed / If I am misunderstood” to the unapologetic end of the poem which reads: “If I’m wrong / If I’m wrong – who gives a fuck? / I have to live”. In these lines and more specifically in the final stanza, John expresses a notion that we have all experienced: the unnerving sense of being faulty human beings. However, John’s poems are complimented by going against the grain and her refusal to apologize for living. John’s poetry is candid and most often blunt. She inflicts onto readers the idea that owning who we are and our decisions should be realized based on our need and purpose to live.

Aisha Sasha John’s poem located on page 34 of section 2 begins in bold stating: “I can’t believe I decided to go to work today”, followed by: “That was so dumb of me. / I hate money. / And I hate sitting down.” Her perspective on quotidian is generic and can be understood by most. She depicts a mundane life and expresses her irritation towards the hassles of being human. However, each poem reiterates the idea that living, while either physically existing or having a fulfilling life, is mandatory.

As a whole, this book speaks truths and explores the idea of being human, especially in 2017. The poems work in unison to represent the obligation to live and to be accepting and forthcoming of how we do so. This work embodies Aisha as a poet and as human, following her mantra insistent on the vitality of living. In our class visit, Aisha Sasha John’s explained that when writing this body of work, she herself was unsure of the meaning of every poem. In this statement, it is even more evident that living is the only thing we can be sure of.

[Julian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Aisha Sasha John's I have to live is a poetry book published in 2017 that provides insight into the human experience that few other works can. This book is an example of shear, unbridled humanity transcribed to paper, where every part of the human experience is represented in some shape or form. All of this is centered around survival, the singular truth of the human experience, represented the repetition of the titular phrase "I have to live". Perhaps going in so many directions at once would lead some to believe that this book is unfocused and might not explore subjects deeply enough, but a human mind is just as vast and unfocused so it's fitting that a book about raw humanity should be so all-encompassing. One of the poems that exemplifies the vast subject matter of this book is also perhaps one of John's most personal. "Blood" is a poem that John admitted she wrote almost all at once and was her way of dealing with some feelings that she was having. She describes her burning need for love, saying that she needs it "lest [she becomes] fucked up" (John 70). She goes on further to describe herself as "love incarnate", an image that completely describes her primal and sexual desire for love in only two words. John also writes about how she wants to "fill a book with blood" but she can't because "there is none", she has "no fricking story" nor "burdens to lay down"(71-72, 83). She wants pity but at the same time she doesn't because she thinks that it's "an ugly way" (83). I've yet to see a poem that so perfectly describes how someone can feel when they're in a bad state of mind as John was when she wrote this poem. She feels pain without having suffered "enough", wants pity but is disgusted by it, needs love but can never have enough, and focuses on her inadequacies, feelings that I'm sure resonate with many. This deep introspective look at the depths of sorrow is in the same book as the poem "What is Bread?", which is a poem that is a train of thought on the nature of bread. John asks herself if bread is women, youth, sorrow or a marshmallow (13). Once again this serves to show just how all-encompassing the subject matter of this book must be to be able to contain a poem like "Blood" but also a poem like "What is Bread". John melds the quotidian, everyday thoughts that people have with the deeper, more "meaningful" aspects of human thought because she realises that it takes all of it to fully express the human experience. Overall I think this book is a rare look at the an unvarnished view into a person's mind and I think it was very brave of Aisha Sasha John to just publish something so personal. However it's this extremely personal view into a person's mind that makes this book such a clear summary of the full human experience.

[Benny Langedyk · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aisha Sasha John’s third collection of poetry, I have to live. is a prideful battle-cry for the resilience of the human body and spirit. With the book being dedicated earnestly to those whom it is for, the reader is slowly lulled into John’s sense of self. In the first poem, Something softens me, John writes:

“softens my desire
something helping me breathe
something spills out my pores as light”

and at the end of the stanza,

“I scratch my head to flakes.
I return to
my reading.
The first knowledge is of our ignorance.
Hi.”

Here, John embraces the ambiguity—or ignorance—that is inherent to being human. From birth, our lives are manipulated by interweaving currents of causality, and John shows here that we can either fight those currents, or openly greet them with a diminutive Hi. This adulation of ambiguity carries throughout many of the poems in I have to live, to the point that it seems like all John knows for absolute-certain is that she in fact does have to live, if at least to figure out just what the hell’s going on in this world. This is demonstrated to hilarious effect in one of my favourite poems in the collection, 'What is bread?':

“Is bread women?
Is bread youth?
Is bread sorrow?
Is bread
A marshmallow?

What is bread?”

This continues until the end of the second suite, where John realizes that regardless of the constant state of unknowingness that is inherent to life on this planet, that no matter what, we have to keep on keepin’ on and revel in the nihilistic nature of our lives and experiences. She writes,

“If I’m weary
if I resist
if I’m easy
if I’m wrong
if I’m wrong — who gives a fuck?
I have to live.”

At this point in the collection, Aisha undergoes a quiet transformation. She gains confidence in herself with her resilient battlecry and takes pleasure in the banal day-to-day quotidian aspects of modern life. In 'In August I visited my Gran', John proudly announces to her mother that she is, in fact, a poem. In 'I defer to you', she tells us that she’s tired of knowing everything, and later that she invented both pasta and cheese. This confidence carries throughout much of the book. While reading I have to live., Aisha shows us simultaneously what it means to be human, and what it means to be Aisha. This, I posit, is a marker of truly fantastic poetry; where highly personal words and imagery can transcend the simple act of reading and become something closer, a state of credulous receptivity between the author and the reader, a form of belletristic communion.

[Nadia · Rating 5 out of 5]

In her third poetry book “I have to live” Aisha Sasha John explores time and space within the quotidian of black femininity. The dance practice of the Montreal-born artist is felt in the book, as it is consciously and neatly choreographed. A harmonization of the body and the soul is explored in the book through the search of the truest living. The soft spiritual aspect of the book blends well with the exploration of the body. So much that at some points there is an effect of feeling in transcendence in reading the book. Each of the seven parts are related in the evolution from surviving to living that happens throughout the book, enhanced by the mantra-like short poems. John uses a simple, straightforward language that does not overflow with metaphors, which plays in her advantage by demonstrating her raw talent. Do not be scare by the emo title “I have to live”, as it acts more as a positive, get-out-of-your-comfort-zone mantra by the end of the book. Aisha Sasha John writes about living unapologetically as a black woman, which echoes well with the Black Lives Matter movement. There is an effect of the “I” and of the “Us” in the book, making them interdependent of one another, especially in the present political climate. The exploration of living and surviving can also be assessed through the lens of the social and political movement.

The poem “Regardless” embodies her feminist, bold, and urgent desire to live freely from anyone’s concern except her own. She lists thirty-four possible ways that she could be refraining to live such “If I surpass/ If I intimidate/ If I confound/ If I confuse/ If I am confused” and finishing with “If I’m wrong/ If I’m wrong – who gives a fuck?/ I have to live”. This poem exemplifies how the whole book is defying and intimately empowering. The repetition makes the poem sound like a mantra when read aloud which is also reinforced by the several references to god in the book. This poem also seems to be a reminder that the author writes to herself, like an emancipating post-it note.

The poem “In August I visited my Gran”, the first one of the third section is reminiscent of intergenerational unconditional love. The short poem describes a visit to see Gran and ends with “I’m home”. This poem, as well as throughout the book, transcends a fierce trust and love for the self, but also for family and for god. In this poem, the grandmother acts almost as a spiritual figure, as the narrator describes the black sky and the beach as being their home because the grandmother is near. The poem begins with an “I.” that is isolated in one separate paragraph from the second and only other one and suggest a solitude in this voyage. By setting her poem visiting her gran and ending it with “I’m home.”, John proposes a recognizable theme of the book: intimacy. With intimacy also comes family and close ties, on which the book is strongly based upon.

[Samantha]

I Have to Live by Aisha Sasha John, is poignant and honest and yet reels you in with every poem. Some relate and others don’t but either way as you read, you won’t want to put it down. The first time I read it, I read it in one sitting, so I am speaking from experience when I say this. The poems go from intimate to absurd and as I read, I did not feel so much that I was relating to every piece, I barely related to any. As you read this collection, John writes in a way that gives a sense of writing for herself, as if the notion of having an audience was not there. When I read it I felt that, I felt that she was writing her burdens, her private thoughts and putting herself out there. And although I may now have related, it made me realize that I’m not alone. I may not be going through the same things but that she and I are both going and have gone through things and in that I relate. If you are looking for a collection, that does not preach but manages to evoke emotions of intimacy, then I would recommend I Have to Live.
On page 91, the poem written is called “I want to walk the park with you”, as I mentioned this book being intimate without being preachy, this poem was one of my favorites for that reason. I related and was able to perfectly imagine certain parts of it, and then others felt like words on a page to me. Taken out of context or taken in whatever context you need to hear these words in, “it’s okay” are two words in the poem. It starts off with “I read somewhere that / It’s okay” (91). it is small moments like this one in her poems, that remind you that she is writing for herself and you may just be finding yourself able to relate.
Another poem, relating to my statement that Aisha writes for herself, is one without a title. It has only six lines, but it still made it into ones of the poems that I enjoyed the most. “anyways/ it doesn't matter / what happens in / my life its / my life. / I'll never hate it.” (104). The poems in this collection are short but still, Aisha gets her point across. She evokes emotions, intimacy but still manages to stay candid in her writing. There are scenes of self-realization and of resilience. She literally named her book “I have to live” and she says she will never hate her life. Aisha wrote this book, in the context of the “Black Lives Matter” movement. The resilience is shown when looking at it from that angle. Racism in America is clearly still there, there is racism all over the world really, but the movement really helped shed light on this topic. By Aisha saying she will never hate her life, especially in this context really shows the resilience she has as a black woman, when so many things are thrown at her from so many different angles; she clearly shows to herself in this collecti

[Margaryta · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wasn't sure whether or not to pick up "I have to live", but when I saw it on the 2018 Griffin Poetry Prize shortlist I decided to give it a shot. This wasn't a collection for me, and it'll puzzle me for a while as to what exactly I was supposed to get out of it. I liked how John carried her urgency and the titular phrase "I have to live" through the collection, but there poems that were too sparse and minimal for me, while others were too disjointed and meandering. I didn't get the full impact of the collection and thus wasn't able to really appreciate it. There are other similar collections that I read which I found more successful in covering the same topic or conveying a similar kind of emotional urgency in a different way. These poems made me realize how visual of a reader I am, that I prefer more than just the bare-bone structure, which is what John does, and while that will work for some people, it didn't work for me.

[Rhiley Jade · Rating 1 out of 5]

The worst book I have read in YEARS. It was borderline disgusting at quite a few of the passages, talking about farting and "taking a dump". Only ONE poem made coherent sense to me, but just barely. And it wasn't even the type of poetry that was pretty but you can only grasp a few passages, it wasn't pretty at all. It was word vomit.
Ugh.

[Matthew Naoufal · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very interesting book. Many unique poems that need in-depth attention. Easy to read although not as easy to understand. When understood there are very powerful messages behind the author's work.
All in all, a great read!

[Vicki · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 1/2 stars

If you catch the flow of this unique poetry collection in just the right mood, you can't help but be caught up in and inspired by John's infectious, ebullient self-confidence and self-awareness.

[Jared Joseph · Rating 5 out of 5]

Of things evil as well as good
Long intercourse

Induces love.

[Julia · Rating 4 out of 5]

i quite liked this.

[Stephen Novik · Rating 2 out of 5]

With mercifully short poems, I breezed through the pages. Found the whole thing to be rather depressing.

[Sephy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Some cool sentiments and images but I finished the book feeling confused more than anything else.

[Rrisher · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thanks to a close friend I had the pleasure of reading John's 'I have to live'. Aptly named, because these are essential poems that are not overwrought or weighted down heavy with the thought of themselves. They're gestural, abstract, cutting, visceral, urgent. This is the first book of poems that I've read in more than a year. This was a good re-entry for me. Thanks MM!

[rowan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Anyway
It doesn't matter
What happens in
My life it's
My life.

I'll never hate it.

[Chanda Prescod-weinstein · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some incredible lines, and the rest is worth it for them. "In August I visited my gran" is probably the single strongest work here.