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When the Only Light Is Fire
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In his debut chapbook of poetry, Saeed Jones walks on the periphery of the South, those places on the outskirts of town, in bars after midnight, and on dangerous backroads where most people keep their heads down or look the other way. Through Texas and Tennessee, Alabama and the riverbeds of the Mississippi, these poems wrap themselves in cloaks of masks and comfort;
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Paperback, 44 pages
Published
October 18th 2011
by Sibling Rivalry Press, LLC
(first published January 1st 2011)
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Saeed Jones’ debut chapbook of poetry, WHEN THE ONLY LIGHT IS FIRE, is not just a riot of the black man — but of the gay black boy caged inside him. I found sanctum in so many of these poems, among them: “Kudzu,” a hankering verse about how nothing breaks the heart like what it cannot have; “Nocturne,” in which death flexes its ubiquitous pull on the living; “Daedalus, After Icarus,” a fable of a grief-stricken father whose son dies of his own invention; and “Boy at Edge of Woods,” where boys
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Saeed Jones's pristine, visceral, sensual poetry is unlike anything I've ever read. Full of secret hillocks and forbidden fields, the fire of a moment's embrace, the exhilaration and frustration of hiding and searching, the sweat and rage and savage beauty of Southern nights, WHEN THE ONLY LIGHT IS FIRE is exquisite, impeccably crafted, with an urgency, an unstoppable, fuming rhythm, that sweeps you up and doesn't let go. Race through it once, breathless, as I did, and then return for a slower
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I'd first come across the collection in search of a purchase to better understand a press, and the description really stood out for me. Although I was born in Germany and live in Berlin now, many of my formulative years were spend in the southern U.S. in the states of Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia, North Carolina and Louisana, and these are some of the places the poet grew up.
"Saeed Jones walks on the periphery of the South, those places on the outskirts of town, in bars after midnight, and on ...more
"Saeed Jones walks on the periphery of the South, those places on the outskirts of town, in bars after midnight, and on ...more
Saeed Jones' mythology is of ruined small towns and their biblical ghosts, the humming bush and men at the edge of it, and a beautiful boy dancing through grief and lust in a dress of smoke. The lyricism and sex of these poems and their hot song, will prick your page turning fingers bloody.
beautiful, sensuous poetry though many (most?) of these can also be found in Jones's full-length collection, Prelude to Bruise
Essentially a rough draft of Prelude to Bruise.
Intimate, intense poetry. Some of the best poetry I have read.
jones has a good ear for language and writes some piercing pieces here. it's been a while since i've read prelude to bruise but i believe many appear in both volumes and have a strong impact in each.
"Hunger is who we are / under a black lacquered moon," asserts Saeed Jones at the beginning of the very last entry in this pitch-perfect collection of darkly radiant poems. And, indeed, it is the transmutation of the past into the hungers that run through it, like rivers or hunters, by the mis-eclipsed light of a moon turned to night, that we can see unites the divergent identities plotted out in these poems - whether they be outlaw, intimate, world-making; or empty, enslaved and just plain evil
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Full of emotion and vivid storytelling, this is by far one of my favorite collections of poetry. I experienced everything from lust with Kudzu to painful grief with Jasper, 1998, I, II, and III. In fact, I tried to read these three poems to my partner and became too choked up to do so. The second actually brought me to tears. I'm not easily drawn to showing emotional responses in life, and for these poems to do this is a strong testament to their strength.
Very sensual, frequently ... sad(?), and sometimes horrifying -- thinking about his Jasper sequence, about the murder of James Boyd, Jr. It gave me chills.
I'm only an occasional reader of poetry and sometimes unsure how the cadence should go, so was happy to find a few clips of the author reading his work online. Here's The Blue Dress in Mother's Closet.
I'm only an occasional reader of poetry and sometimes unsure how the cadence should go, so was happy to find a few clips of the author reading his work online. Here's The Blue Dress in Mother's Closet.
I read the entire thing through on my lunch hour, accidentally. It was just that urgent and visceral, goes directly into the vein without having to filter through the brain. I'll have to read through again for a more cerebral impression.
Absolutely should be at the top of any list of must-read contemporary southern poets. The "Jasper" poems, my god...
Absolutely should be at the top of any list of must-read contemporary southern poets. The "Jasper" poems, my god...
This is a very deep and profound chapbook of poetry. Jones taps into the erotic as well as the political in this collection, exploring sexuality, race, southern politics, and more in these dense, lyrical poems. A very excellent collection.
Admittedly, I don't read a lot of poetry and often feel dumb while reading it. Saeed Jones' writing is visceral and vivid. I look forward to reading more from him!
There are moments here when poetry is everything. The Jasper series is fantastic. Prelude to a Bruise with its repetition is both sexy and haunting.
Haunting. I'm still spinning. The opening line of "Meridian" reads: "Cinders drift in/from a fire we can't see." That fire leaves us burning for more. That fire is Saeed Jones.
Powerful, lyric poetry that paints wonderfully brutal, sexual, racial, and steamiy pictures, mostly set in rural areas and the South.
A fantastic, sensual, dark emergence from this first book, and emerging talented poet. Brilliant use of captivating language and stirring imagery. I recommend this book!
solid.
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Saeed Jones’ debut poetry collection Prelude To Bruise (Coffee House Press) was the winner of the 2015 PEN/Joyce Osterweil Award For Poetry and the 2015 Stonewall Book Award/Barbara Gittings Literature Award and a finalist for the 2015 National Book Critics Circle Award. The book was also a finalist for 2015 awards from the Lambda Literary and the Publishing Triangle. His poetry and essays have
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“I’ve lined my throat
with the river bottom’s best
silt,
allowed my fingers to shrivel
and be taken for crawfish.
I’ve laced my eyelashes with algae.
I blink emerald.
I blink sea glass green.
I am whatever gleams
just under the surface.
Scoop at my sparkle. I’ll give you nothing
but disturbed reflection.
Bring your ear to the water
and I’ll sing you
down into my arms.
Let me show you how
to make your lungs
a home for minnows, how
to let them flicker
like silver
in and out of your mouth
like last words,
like air.”
—
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More quotes…
with the river bottom’s best
silt,
allowed my fingers to shrivel
and be taken for crawfish.
I’ve laced my eyelashes with algae.
I blink emerald.
I blink sea glass green.
I am whatever gleams
just under the surface.
Scoop at my sparkle. I’ll give you nothing
but disturbed reflection.
Bring your ear to the water
and I’ll sing you
down into my arms.
Let me show you how
to make your lungs
a home for minnows, how
to let them flicker
like silver
in and out of your mouth
like last words,
like air.”
