"There's another version of this story where I drain the past, rouge my cheeks with its blood, make a dead thing live," writes Jiordan Castle. She vividly details a life marked by her father's mental illness and incarceration. Even in the dark of the familial prison experience, Castle charms with a glowing mix of candor, compassion, and humor. This debut poetry chapbook takes us to the brink and delivers us back to ourselves--and to the familiar hope we all carry inside.
The visiting room: smaller, yellower than the world outside …
I finished reading Jiordan Castle’s stark and incisive book of poems and then took a moment to imagine what her writing process might look like to have tapped so deeply into her wounded soul to create this stunning work. Maybe she sat cross-legged under an ancient eucalyptus tree — perhaps the way an Aboriginal Australian might have when harnessing a reputed antenna to the gods — and she drank truth serum, which coursed through her veins until it took up residence in her heart, where it established a direct link to her hands, and from there, she channeled every ounce of curiosity and fear and pain and resignation she could muster in one enormous cleansing breath before dry-heaving out this emotionally raw, haunting collection of distant memories of milestone events in her life that she would rather erase from her consciousness, but simply can’t. Or won’t.
Beautiful poems that show Jiordan Castle's range, humor, heart and tenderness. Some of the most arresting words in this chapbook dissect the poet's feelings on her father's incarceration, but others touch upon moments of tenderness toward our canine friends, observations of everyday violence, and the pressure and constraints of New York City life. Expect big things to come from Jiordan Castle!