Greetings. Everything is fine!
Milk and honey, a poem full of love, brought me into a strange you-Ruby Kaul.
According to the custom, when I read a book of poems for the first time, I will know the author first. However, to my disappointment, there is almost no information about Kaul on the web page. Well, dear, please forgive my rudeness this time and hug you.
"When she was five years old, her mother gave her a brush to encourage her to draw her own ideas. From then on, Kaul began to record everything she experienced with paintings and poems. Her works have healed many people's wounds and have the courage to start again. " This is Kaul, which I learned from the author's brief introduction. In my opinion, it is some key information. I think, walking into your writing world will bring us closer.
To tell the truth, Kaul's poems are similar to some poems to some extent, but they are different from them by a classification. Your poems are the same as expressing love, sex, sex, women and men. The difference lies in the way of communication and narrative style. Maybe they are gentle, euphemistic, bold and direct. However, in your pen, synaesthesia seems to be a kind of magic, a sense of smell, taste and vision that comes and goes in a hurry. Reading your poems, I seem to be in a three-dimensional space, and all organs and cells are shocked by your wonderful poems.
( 1)
In Memories of the Past, you recall the pain of childhood, write about your father's indifference to yourself, and write that your ignorant self was violated by the opposite sex. Your pain, fear and helplessness, like a piece of glass slag stuck in the soles of my feet, always make my heart ache, and it is directly transmitted from the soles of my feet to the cerebral cortex.
Your poem, every word and sentence is so beautiful and hurts me so much.
"I was about to speak.
Milk and honey
Spill out of your mouth. "
Milk is white and tender, honey is sweet, and you only know how beautiful it is and how to cherish it when you taste it, but these have become your extravagant hopes.
"I replied.
That's because ... ...
I have never been there.
Be gentle. "
Regarding the expression of sexual love, I have to say that you are really bold and completely out of my expectation:
you
Be told
The depression between your legs.
It's a position where men stop.
The emptiness under the body
Need their fillers
It's just that no one has ever really arrived.
or
protracted
I would say that I am more inclined to accept some implicit poems, but what you wrote is implicit, or it should be said that its scale will be larger. I think most readers who read your work today may be ashamed to understand such a poem. But I have to say, this is the charm of your poem, bold and direct. This is undoubtedly how you make words show the beauty of simplicity.
There are many injustices and cruelties in this world, even a dark and disgusting side:
tell me
Where did he put his hand?
You seem to be confessing.
Put your finger between the doll's legs.
That's what he said.
A ravaged place
How do you feel?