|The erudite scholar, Ted E, Bear, contemplates a book of poetry|
A few nights back, I had the pleasure of attending Edward Vidaurre's release of his latest (and third) poetry collection, Beautiful Scars. The event itself was a wonderful time -- a cozy coffee shop setting, inspiring and warm company, and of course, just damn good poetry. It was a laid back evening of celebration for Edward's amazing accomplishment and for our little poetry community as well.
I really admired the way Edward presented himself and his poetry. His reading was essentially a conversation with the audience. It felt like (and really was) like having coffee with a good friend. He talked about his past experiences with poetry and literature, his humble beginnings, and how his journey to becoming a writer was somewhat unconventional (but is it, really?). It was so enlightening and heartening to hear him talk about his work in such an accessible, honest, and down to earth way. His message was one that poetry is meant to be enjoyed by the people, and however it touches you, that's its true meaning. That's a beautiful sentiment.
Anyway, during the reading my back was bugging me something fierce, so I felt all awkward standing there while everyone else was sitting down. But whatever, I wasn't about to let my pains get in the way of enjoying my evening. Besides, I had to stay through until the end so I could buy my copy!
That evening, I came home exhausted, so I left the book on my coffee table. It wasn't until last night that I picked it up. And you know what? I read the entire book in one gulp. It was that good.
The book itself tells a rough narrative of the speaker's life experiences, the grit and dirt of life, love lost and rediscovered, the death and birth of loved ones, the losing and the finding of self. Some poems take place in East L.A, and we see homelessness, riots, poverty. Some take place in South Texas along the Rio Grande River and we see a richness of place that's unmistakable. My favorite poem in this collection is "Eloy, the Lion," which, interestingly enough, Edward also said at the reading it was his most difficult poem to write. It takes the reader on a journey of coming to terms with loss through grief and sadness, but it ends with Eloy, the speaker's step-father, entering heaven. Rubbing elbows with this poem are a series about the speaker's young daughter, so in a sense, Eloy lives on.
The images are always surprising. One minute, the speaker is an owl, the next, he's an organ donor on the side of the road. There's haikus, there's spanglish, there's blues all intermixing to illustrate the universal human condition -- its capacity to love, its capacity to grieve.
Anyway, if you can't tell, let me just spell it out. You should read this book. It's accessible, beautiful, and a journey through an emotional landscape like no other.
Congratulations, Edward Vidaurre, on another compelling collection of poetry. I am looking forward to hearing more from this authentic voice in American poetics.