"We say no man is an island to keep bodies
away from carapace, arthritis from the world atlas.
Even when someone is an island, no one has
turned a body into a ferry, hairs into life jackets.
No life jackets on the island: the back is the largest
plateau to hang a tattoo, to hold demurrals.
Let's assume the island is then colonized.
Peacocks open a spectrum of feathers to a noise
and mate in a foreign way. A satellite scans the island,
defines the circularity. Semi-
closed eyelids also show trust. The island's population
grows as the self splits. The first self shawls itself
because the second self self-actualizes too much. Locals call
it cukou, meaning exit, or close enough, fouled mouth."
// Archipelago
The second poetry collection in a row that just did not work for me. At least in the last case of Chen Chen, there were some favourites. Here, I could not be more indifferent. All these poems passed me by, there was no stimulation either on the intellectual or the emotional level. Sure, there were bits and pieces here and there that were enjoyable to read, phraseology, especially in the case of wordplay, and multiple meanings that were impressive, but there is nothing I would be gushing about many days later. "Trio With Hsia Yü" Is the notable exception and maybe "Light Deposit" at the very end in terms of poems that really made me pause. Vuong says, "Wong writes through the body as a way of finding a new hierarchy for the way bodies are seen and valued." I suggest you go see it for yourself. It won a Lambda Award after all.
(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)