Dave Schaafsma's Reviews > Night Sky with Exit Wounds
Night Sky with Exit Wounds
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“Stars. Or rather, the drains of heaven � waiting. Little holes. Little centuries opening just enough for us to slip through.�
“I hold the gun & wonder if an entry wound in the night would make a hole wide as morning.�
Published in 2016, this is Ocean Vuong’s first full collection of poetry. A book about violence, identity, NY vs. Vietnam, sex, being gay, Grandma, living the legacy of Vietnam and the war (He was born in Saigon), and feels ecstatic, bursting with enthusiasm and reflecting pain. Fragmented, to reflect his fragmentation. I liked its energy and language and sass.
�. . . teach me
how to hold a man the way thirst
holds water. Let every river envy
our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body
like a season. Where apples thunder
the earth with red hooves. . .�
Here’s one of his poems he reads and you can read along to:
“I hold the gun & wonder if an entry wound in the night would make a hole wide as morning.�
Published in 2016, this is Ocean Vuong’s first full collection of poetry. A book about violence, identity, NY vs. Vietnam, sex, being gay, Grandma, living the legacy of Vietnam and the war (He was born in Saigon), and feels ecstatic, bursting with enthusiasm and reflecting pain. Fragmented, to reflect his fragmentation. I liked its energy and language and sass.
�. . . teach me
how to hold a man the way thirst
holds water. Let every river envy
our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body
like a season. Where apples thunder
the earth with red hooves. . .�
Here’s one of his poems he reads and you can read along to:
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Reading Progress
February 18, 2018
– Shelved
February 18, 2018
– Shelved as:
to-read
February 18, 2018
– Shelved as:
poetry
February 8, 2019
–
Started Reading
February 8, 2019
– Shelved as:
asian-americas
February 8, 2019
– Shelved as:
vietnam
February 8, 2019
– Shelved as:
glbt
February 10, 2019
–
Finished Reading
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Joe
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Feb 11, 2019 07:36AM

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He's interesting. That word, "ecstatic," I had seen before in conjunction with his work. . . .suck in my head, but it fits. Not quiet, lyrical poetry, usually, though there's a kind of quietness in his attending to his mother, his father, his grandmother; but then there are these moments of Vietnam war horror and atrocity, of violence, the stories of which he grew up with. He's getting a lot of attention for someone so young.