New Book of Poetry in the Family

My brother-in-law, Marcos Soriano, has a new  book of poetry out for the Kindle. Suck Nectar Vomit Honey stands out for its direct writing, haunting imagery and gritty realism that never strays into self-pity or emotional manipulation. Although the topics are often bleak (cancer and its accompanying horrors; birth defects; disasters both natural and man-made), the message isn't one of despair. Instead each poem reads as a letter from a place anyone of us has been before, or may be headed next, a kind of Lonely Planet guide to life's darker days, or a field guide to nature's less glamorous creations. Who has not felt:

Black-dog days
and starless nights.
The body turned toward sorrow
like a dial tone drones in A.

These are skillfully crafted poems whose language illuminates rather than obscures, and are at times achingly lovely, perhaps all the more due to their sober content.

Here's a poem I love for obvious personal reasons, as well as on its own merits. Enjoy, and then head over to Amazon to get your own copy:

My Brother, Sleeping

The eyes twitching back and forth
under the lids, the pupil like a fist
moving beneath a sheet. The breath
puffing out through the mouth
with a different rhythm, a different pace
than it does when he's awake.
As if his sleeping self
is not the same
as his self awake.

Asleep on the living room floor,
his hands folded over his congested heart.
One son throwing blocks;
and the other, just born,
breathing his own tiny breaths
with his sparrow lungs-
so tiny, those breaths,
they move less air
than prayers do. 

From Suck Nectar Vomit Honey by Marcos Soriano, 2012