One might call Phyllis Socratic, because she proceeds by questioning, but hers are not Socratic questions. They’re more like questions one asks oneself, while making split pea soup:
“the fabric
goes on a
journey now held
by two women”
[from “Unfinished Work”] Come to think of it, the author’s name is a question – though misspelled.
“what did the Chinese give us?…… full and empty
in and out…… the breath…… that animates beings
& the IDEOGRAMS “appear not as arbitrarily imposed marks”
[from the title poem] Weightless questions. This is a weightless book.
Phyllis is something of a philologist. Poems can’t be philology, but these come close. The meanings of Chinese words, and Roberto Bolaño’s Spanish, become islands of insight.
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