Evie Shockley published a chapbook of poems, The Gorgon Goddess, with Carolina Wren Press in 2001. Her new collection, a half-red sea, will be released in Fall, 2006. Her poetry has appeared widely in journals and anthologies, including Beloit Poetry Journal, Callaloo, Hambone, HOW2 and Poetry Daily: Poems from the World's Most Popular Poetry Website. She has also placed her prose-fiction and literary criticism-in such publications as Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora, African American Review, North American Review, and Rainbow Darkness: An Anthology of African American Poetry. Shockley is an assistant professor of English at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, NJ.
The following poems will be part of Shockley's collection, a half-red sea, forthcoming from Carolina Wren Press. §
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blue flame the first thing he knew ::
st. louis blues with dizzying rules ::
blue devil makes his pointed debut ::
blew into new york a westerly overture ::
julliard dropout takes a bluebird tutor ::
blue demon seized by a gram reaper ::
blooming of a green embouchure ::
blew and mellow in unmuted bell ::
bills played in full circuitously ::
trane cruises through on steam heat ::
thick green chords a sticky carpet ::
melodies return to aquamarine mood ::
blue spring grew green a cash crop ::
ballads fuel a blown fuse future -
© Evie Shockley
they love him and i was with him:
so they passed me the baguette,
to rip off a fist-sized chunk, golden
crust flaking onto the tablecloth
in a crisp snow: they served up
salmon, smoked, with dill sauce,
thin slices of color itself: they
tossed simple salads, lettuce
and oil, and stuffed tomatoes
for us, the vegetarian they love
and the woman he loves: they
put out plates of cheese, insisted
i try a bit of chevre so strong it could
have lifted the goat it came from:
they initiated me into the art
of the apértif, cassis, just so much,
and chardonnay, electric currants
in a glass: they knew we could not
have food like this aux états-unis,
melon as delightful as a silk
blouse against the shoulders, no,
wine as full and textured as sex,
not possible, not to be believed
of the land of pagan cuisine: they
demanded, every uncle, aunt,
and cousin, that we open our mouths,
throw back our heads, and swallow
all the family they could fit into one
two-week visit: they hosted lunches
that lasted from noon to nine, dinners
that kept us feasting till we could
neither sit nor stand: they produced
omelettes that rose above the pan's
edge like sunrise: they emptied
kitchens into our sated stomachs,
and when we were staggering under
a half-dozen courses, they presented
the irresistibles, the tartes topped
with beautiful fruit, the chocolate
gateaux, the flans, and floating islands
of meringue that some or all of us
must have dreamed up: they loved
us with rich, black coffee sweetened
with honey from their hives: they
taught me their tongue: their toasts,
their jokes, their silences, their loud
beliefs and quiet griefs, all the things
they bring to their tables: they taught me
how to be a part of them, who are a
part of him, and i am replete with
kith and kin: i am gourmet, gourmande.
-- aux ménétriers et robolins
say hello to moon leads you into trees as thick as folk on easter pews dark but venture through amazing was blind but now fireflies glittering dangling from evergreens like christmas oracles soon you meet the riverbank down by the riverside water bapteases your feet moon bursts back in low yellow swing low sweet chariot of cheese shines on in the river cup hands and sip what never saw inside a peace be still mix in your tears moon distills distress like yours so nobody knows the trouble it causes pull up a log and sit until your empty is full your straight is wool your death is yule moonshine will do that barter with you what you got for what you need draw from the river like it is well with my soul o moon you croon and home you go
Poetry Copyright Evie Shockley, 2001, 2006.
copyright © 2007 Carolina Wren Press all rights reserved
