:: Poetry Review: from one to
the next by Holly Prado ::
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Memory, Creating Myth, Providing Sustenance: Holly Prado takes us
from one to the next
by
Sanora Bartels
Holly Prado's latest book of poetry released by Cahuenga Press,
from one to the next takes us on a journey from daily transition and
adjustments to fractured dreams of mother and memory and finally eases
us into a guarded, but hopeful mythology. The book is comprised of three
sections starkly different in style but cohesive in their quest for
meaning.
The first section is also the book's
title from one to the next and uses the phases of the moon to
light our path. It begins with the full moon in Taurus/Scorpio which
takes place in autumn, the year is winding down and I am reminded, as an
artist in Los Angeles, of how one begins to worry toward the end of the
year when production slows down and the city goes to sleep, no jobs, no
prospects until January (in these economic times, now, a very real worry
for more than just the production community). Prado addresses this in
The Next Day the Santa Anas. The piece speaks of the strain of hard
times during Los Angeles' tense Santa Ana season:
if we wanted ease
we wouldn't live here
cracked skin especially on my thumbs
and little cuts
The piece eases though as Prado reflects
on small comforts and in so doing is able to comfort her husband:
the new sweaters
two of them
are nice --
I earned the money
as I always do.
resentments pass
"don't worry don't worry"
I tell him
earlier than usual at night
These poems are quiet and fluid and
acknowledge what it is to be present, to be established in being, to be
human on this earth. The Visionary Yet Actual illustrates this
beautifully:
moon above my head this Sunday morning
perfectly visible but
startling as if I've never seen it before
as if this is the first month
The quiet observation of life's
transitions gives over to stark snatches of memory in branch the
book's second section. When I read branch, I felt an overwhelming
sadness that came as much from the memory of leaves, as actual leavings.
The poems reach along the family tree toward the memory of mother whose
branch was cut too soon. One of the most evocative pieces for me is
The Skirt, two simple words, one stanza:
green
wing
Standing alone, I suppose it could be
open to criticism as simply visual and too cryptic for any emotional
understanding, but within the section it serves as a bridge. It is
mother's skirt and that skirt is a memory of spring and wind and at its
essence, life. That skirt evolves into a skirt with gold coins at its
hem and the life of the gypsy daughter who eventually learns how to stop
looking for meaning in loss and turns instead to the meaning in what is
left us. The section ends with Tonight:
hand me the road downward
but then
I look up one branch
sprouts more branches
then more
I found this section incredibly moving
and the pulse of it is quick, moving from one image to the next, the way
one dreams. These images begin to plant the seeds of mythology that will
come to fruition in the final section.
In celery, the third
section of Prado's book, the narrative poems address our need for
mythology and divine interpretation of the mundane, daily life, although
with her pragmatic lyricism, Prado, herself, would probably deny the
latter. The title is taken from the appearance on the final day of the
Chinese New Year of an old woman giving out celery to the celebrants.
Prado provides the explanation in the piece Sweater:
To
bring us back to our human senses, the story says that on the fifteenth
day of the Chinese New Year, it's time for an old woman to greet us with
celery, a basketful, to take away the sugar of ecstasy, to ease us back
into our vegetable feet -
She reminds us that....we're on a
planet which sustains and values its creatures -
Prado's
narrative work in this section re-affirms that reminder as in
Basket:
One of us falters, the rest leap in -
skill, advice, prayer, cooking - to dissolve pain, restore, create
another beginning. The potency of physical rescue has nothing to do with
comfort. It pushes us: cellular inheritance, molecular faith. Its speed
is the realization that death stands behind us - so hurry.
The
piece goes on to speak of nature's speed but there is actually a slow,
delicious quality to all of the narrative poems. As if Prado were
weaving a documentary using time-lapse photography. This time-lapse
allows us a glimpse at the inhabited space between just formed memories
of a year taking shape as in Sunflower:
...the
charm of meat and green vegetables and cool wine....food urging our
bodies toward the golden curves of squash, the shape of winter made best
by long, slow cooking.
But it is not just about
physical sustenance. These pieces, like those in from one to the
next and branch are seeking the thread, the through line that
ties our individual stories and collective consciousness together. In
the final piece, Season, Prado addresses the subject directly and
effectively. She lists what she has collected and written about over the
course of the year and then:
These small mirrors
matter because they're the emblems through which my myth creates itself,
a myth joining the celery woman's, or any culture's imaginative truth.
...invisibly, it thickens our living texture. Everybody adds to this.
Everybody who speaks, writes and wonders.
With
this, Prado embraces her readers and brings them into her gypsy camp to
tell their stories and warm their hands. Through her use of different
styles in the book, Prado is a master storyteller but you come away with
the feeling that there is room for us all. from one to the next
not only affirms the importance of language and style but also of the
narrators themselves.
You can purchase from one to the next
at http://www.CahuengaPress.com.
If you purchase the book, I would love to
know what you think, so please send an email to
sanora@lawritersgroup.com.
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