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Average rating4.3
Praise for Saeed Jones: "Jones is the kind of writer who’s more than wanted: he’s desperately needed."—FlavorWire "I get shout-happy when I read these poems; they are the gospel; they are the good news of the sustaining power of imagination, tenderness, and outright joy."—D. A. Powell “Prelude to Bruise works its tempestuous mojo just under the skin, wreaking a sweet havoc and rearranging the pulse. These poems don't dole out mercy. Mr. Jones undoubtedly dipped his pen in fierce before crafting these stanzas that rock like backslap. Straighten your skirt, children. The doors of the church are open.”—Patricia Smith “It’s a big book, a major book. A game-changer. Dazzling, brutal, real. Not just brilliant, caustic, and impassioned but a work that brings history—in which the personal and political are inter-constitutive—to the immediate moment. Jones takes a reader deep into lived experience, into a charged world divided among unstable yet entrenched lines: racial, gendered, political, sexual, familial. Here we absorb each quiet resistance, each whoop of joy, a knowledge of violence and of desire, an unbearable ache/loss/yearning. This is not just a “new voice” but a new song, a new way of singing, a new music made of deep grief’s wildfire, of burning intelligence and of all-feeling heart, scorched and seared. In a poem, Jones says, “Boy’s body is a song only he can hear.” But now that we have this book, we can all hear it. And it’s unforgettable.”—Brenda Shaughnessy “Inside each hunger, each desire, speaks the voice of a boy that admits ‘I’ve always wanted to be dangerous.’ This is not a threat but a promise to break away from the affliction of silence, to make audible the stories that trouble the dimensions of masculinity and discomfort the polite conversations about race. With impressive grace, Saeed Jones situates the queer black body at the center, where his visibility and vulnerability nurture emotional strength and the irrepressible energy to claim those spaces that were once denied or withheld from him. Prelude to a Bruise is a daring debut.”—Rigoberto González From "Sleeping Arrangement": Take your hand out from under my pillow. And take your sheets with you. Drag them under. Make pretend ghosts. I can't have you rattling the bed springs so keep still, keep quiet. Mistake yourself for shadows. Learn the lullabies of lint. Saeed Jones works as the editor of BuzzfeedLGBT.
Reviews with the most likes.
HE THINKS HE CAN LEAVE MEby leaving me,but even nowI walkburningthrough the empty streetsof his mind.
I really thought I had read other Saeed Jones poetry before, but I guess I was mistaken, as I didn't have any of his other books on my “Read” shelf. I love listening to him occasionally read poetry (his and others') on the podcast Vibe Check - he's got such a lovely voice for it.
That said, I think this collection might not have been for me? Not in that I didn't like it, but that it was not written with me (cishet white woman) as the target. I found it difficult to understand generally, though still beautiful.
I stole his tongue; now he can't say no.
His yes is mine to keep, mine to answer my own questions with like:Now that I've mined you, are you mine?
- from Secondhand (Smoke)
My absolute favorite from this collection is a longer-form story-poem, “History, According to Boy” about a boy growing into his teen and adult years, into his queerness, and the rage his father feels towards him in relation to it. Oh it's awful, violent but also lovely?? It makes me so sad that any child would grow up in an environment where his parents would rather have a dead child than a queer one, and that does not make any sense at all to me.
From that poem, about going to the shooting range with his father every week:
Boy was so busy concentrating, he only took one note: The black paper body shuddered, then offered up its throat.
“Here,” the body said.Boy made a perfect shot. Boy's father called over the other fathers to look at the perfect little hole in the black paper body.Boy made note of how many times his father looked at him and smiled. Three.
CW: homophobia, homophobic slurs