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Felino Soriano's Realities of Bifocal Translations
Felino A. Soriano's "Realities of Bifocal Translations" is dominated by jazz echoes, scatted as it were, and its idioms, as well as the personal and celebrated brushstrokes of 20th and 21st Century painting translated to poetry. Predominately one page takes, the poems, executed in a hybrid of modernist/postmodernist syntax, offer the reader a swirling look down & up at the all-important avant-garde heritage of us all. Simultaneously historic and contemporary, the poems in this volume do what good ekphrastic poetry (or music or painting) should do...dip its tongue in the honey and lay it back down, poised like the instrument all musicians/artists/poets share—experience and articulated reality.
About Blue & Yellow Dog Press: There are only 5 volumes of poetry published so far in Raymond Farr’s Blue & Yellow Dog Press Book Shop (a spin-off of his on line poetry journal Blue & Yellow Dog)— four volumes by Raymond Farr, and Felino Soriano’s Realities of Bifocal Translations. The next book to appear in the B&YDog Book Shop Series, will be Adam Fieled’s latest prospect, Equations, due out sometime in August 2010. Any full length poetry ms is welcome. The editor promises a careful reading of each ms submitted. All ms should be submitted as Word docs, RTF, or PDF attachments to an email and sent to warholaray1@embarqmail.com
Felino Soriano: Realities of Bifocal Translations Poetry Paperback, 98 pgs, $15 plus shipping
how many emergencies makes a poet? 777 stalks root godhead gets hypodermic fiend spills the spoils of a life unexamined saint walks on sutures art digs the grave.
Motor skills invoke a mental spark that stretches to include learned behavior that has raced the body through time space for some facsimile of infinity.
You of all people ought to splinter norms because you painted each of them once.
I am up for handsome, but the guess points have to be collateral.
Once upon a gastronomic brass section of an unincorporated orchestra there were ordained priests who had to be taken seriously.
As the homonyms fear losing home court advantageous mimicry, one of the outcasts is nicknamed pope.
Your daughter must be up to something: she has not blurted out one swear word in the past three moments.
Who left the mute cone on the dining room table and why?
I see my job here as a kind of self-appointed youngest child charged with making your life singular.
Until you come to the partaken portion of our cornice, there are few who would compare you to the loping, graceful mammal unclouding forestry just beyond the picture window.
Lark it up while you are middle aged, and read your Chaucer, knowing you have lived it when so many acolytes believe you merely were rehearsing early dialects in the language lab.
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