Wait, let me finish that image.
You’re a squirrel and you’re clutching a nut to your chest, like many nuts you’ve held in your arms time before, but somehow at this particular moment, you understand how beautiful it is that a nut is a nut, because. . .You are like the nut you hold. Your grip is as firm, your heart, as close and protective. And so you go from being a squirrel to being a nut and that means you’re going to be a tree. And now you know greatness.
This is how I feel when I go to hear Jaime Asaye Fitzgerald read. You can Google her if you want to hear about her Japanese-Hawaiian background, education, where’s she’s published, badda badda. What you can’t possibly know until you see and hear her read aloud and live is that you will fall in love with her simple, deep poetry and her open, personal introductions to poems family, love, and life, and that she reads and writes like someone who understands dance, so that what you hear is full of movement and phrasing and weight. Ah. Every word has body. It is so wonderful.
I pretty much have become accustomed to going and sitting myself in the audience so that I can crinkle my head in amazement at the beauty that comes out of this woman. Some of her poems are sad, but they’re so lovely and satisfying, you don’t care. Some of them are short. Some of them are visually stunning. I could launch into a litany of the many ways Jaime Asaye Fitzgerald charms the sh-t out of me EVERY TIME I go to hear her read, but I won’t list them here because I don’t want to make genius self-conscious.
Let us go and peace to love and serve the Lord.
[This constitutes a review of her reading (7/14/10) at The World Stage as featured by the remarkable Anansi Writer’s Workshop in Leimert Park, just east of Downtown. A nexus of talent, past and future.]