Inside these pages, verses sing of light in the dark, of unearthing dark pasts and reckoning them with a resilient fervor. Kristi Carter dredges up the old, the scarred, the traumatic, and weaves a stolid face into the rising sun of tomorrow. However, scars never leave--they fade, yet they remain. We are who we are because of our families, our old friends, our former lovers who made us weak in the knees yet somehow our knees do not grow weak anymore. When our mother births us, she is supposed to hold us--she is supposed to drip candle wax over her hands as she guides us through the unknown. In this collection, we can see all that has been lost, has never been known, and because of them, their effects on the individual. Aria Viscera is a reminder that sometimes it is necessary to grab the candle from your failed mother, your failed relatives, and your darkened past and find your own way around the tricks and traps of the coming present.
Such a gorgeously dark and ruminative collection of poetry focusing on one's thick, oppressive familial heritage, and yet, a compelling light to break the cycle.
With a title like ARIA VISCERA (April Gloaming Press, May 5 2020), I could hardly resist this collection by Kristi Carter. In music, aria is defined a a singular voice, self-contained and also brings to mind great expansion, an origin I am not familiar with etymologically, but maybe. And of course, viscera represents the internal organs. Being a writer with a background in medicine, this collection spoke to me, quite literally, but once I dove into the pages, I discovered there was another calling: it's about a scarred past, and how scars don't exactly go away, but fade; it's about finding one's own light in dark times, of escaping the cycle of abuse, neglect, of breaking away.
Divided into four sections, ARIA VISCERA focuses on birth, names, anatomy, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, brothers, life cycles; it's also about myths and monsters (literal and metaphorical), it's troubling and speculative and yes, self-contained, but not self-absorbed, it's a shout in the darkness, a rise to confidence, to self-awareness.
These are deep, thoughtful pieces that will resonate with the reader, they leave a residue, a thickness that encapsulates feelings and words and experiences, so thick at times, you can chew on the words.
In terms of critique, and doing so is challenging, because all of these works are so slippery, so glistening, that I can't do that. I might prefer more prose-style poetry, some of these were difficult to parse. That could just be me and where I'm on a personal level while reading them. Overall, this is a very accomplished collection and I will be returning to them again and again.
You may also enjoy the work of John James (THE MILK HOURS).
A glistening collection of poems that delves into a mother-daughter dynamic, childhood/birth, and the mystical appearances of what is lost and gained along the way. A dense, plodding read with plenty of moments to savor, like coals of a campfire. Aria Viscera smolders for hours in the hearth of the reader.