Set in Southern California's San Gabriel Valley, Diana Marie Delgado’s debut poetry collection follows the coming-of-age of a young Mexican-American woman trying to make sense of who she is amidst a family and community weighted by violence and addiction. With bracing vulnerability, the collection chronicles the effects of her father’s drug use and her brother’s incarceration, asking the reader to consider reclamation and the power of the self.
The plumes of the avocado are sick. Dad cuts roses with a hatchet In hell, there's nothing but crocodiles and fathers. In Mexico, the Devil is handsome and smiles in all his photographs. He has one wife, two daughters, three sons, but no mother. He rakes leaves then fixes umbrellas, occasionally throws back his head and sings.
Some really astonishing stuff in here, and a pretty decent number of poems that I thought were really impactful explorations of trauma, memory, and how people are forced to navigate the two. But this style of poetry simply isn’t for me. Every poem is an almost nonsensical jumble of images/ideas that don’t have any connection on their surface (though I’m sure they do to the poet herself, and that’s wonderful and an amazing reason to write poetry). It just all felt really inaccessible to me. That said, I knew after the first poem that I wouldn’t be super on board with this. I prefer the more direct, simple language of poets like Li-Young Lee or William Carlos Williams. Those do a lot more for me with a lot less - they aren’t POEMS but poems, soft and sad and simple.
Staccato. When you finish the book and look at your hands you’ll wonder where all the blood is Oozing from; each poem was a deep paper cut-the sum of which will leave you asking yourself if these flip book poems, stop animation poetry, were not made from your own misdeeds. A terrific book!
Diana Marie Delgado has three otherwise unpublished poems on Poetry Foundations’ website, which is how I discovered her. I still love those three poems. But they’re almost nothing like this collection, which is why I’m disappointed …
There are lines here and there which really capture me. Certain images, glimpses of things. But unlike those three poems I’d read and loved before this, most of the poems in here are more sporadic — even those with a theme or message I can grasp from certain clues are too floaty, very disconnected, the language and form of the poems not as tightly spun.
Their commonality is the kind of imagery, tone and cadence Delgado uses in her poetry — which I think really works in those Poetry Foundation poems where there is more of a story, a super distinctive theme, and/or clear connective tissue from the first to last line of the poem! It makes them stand out, it’s exciting But not in the more disjointed kind … because it’s casual, rambly language it makes the read even more confusing if we have nothing to follow / latch on to in the content itself
This stunning collection does exactly what poetry should do--it is the objective correlative on fire. What a gift to read this intimate and personal collection that overflows with powerful imagery and delves honestly into difficult and complex relationships, politics, and history.
I'm practicing a play where my brother's doing time in prison
In hell, there's nothing but crocodiles and fathers
Some people like poison.
Have you ever opened an apricot, warmed by the sun, and found worms?
This book is full of evocative images, astutely juxtaposed contradictions that are revealing and often melancholy. Intimate and personal, most of the poems center on family life plagued by misogyny, abuse, and gang culture.
My favorites: "Songs of Escape" "Notes for White Girls" "The Kind of Light I Give Off Isn't Going to Last" "Desire is a Road" "They Chopped Down the Tree I Used to Lie Under and Count Stars With"
Sometimes you're in the mood for figurative language, and sometimes you're not. I just don't think I was in the right frame of mind to fully appreciate this collection. There's some undeniably great lines & poems, but overall I found myself wishing it were a little less opaque. "The Kind of Light I Give Off Isn't Going to Last" was the standout poem for me.