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Only Blue Body — A Poetic Journal

The book reads like a poetic journal, as if a different day in the life of one person

blueRosalynde Vas Dias’s book Only Blue Body proved to be an amazing read, thick with images. Each line stands on its own, as it should, and draws a picture in the mind.  Sometimes subtly like water colors blending into each other, defining connecting images. Other times in full stop of a portrait painted in oil.
As complicated as the placement of words in the title poem is, it didn’t stop me being fully enveloped by the story of what appeared to be a wondering mind in a classroom. I found myself imagining a woman being an anchor, her body bound, and blue. I was transported into the narrator’s world and didn’t realize I left my own body until the line, “Can’t get back in….. But trying.”
Being that the title of the book is the very first poem, I wondered if that was all this read had. That thought was soon dismissed. Rosalynde constantly transforms the micro to the macro and vice versa, giving waves of compact explosions of emotions in such indirect ways I had to breathe a bit before each poem. There were times when I thought, “I am about to slip into something dark,” but then had to hold back a laugh like in the case of the poem “Silent Defense.”
The book reads like a poetic journal, as if a different day in the life of one person. Filled with self-exploration into imagination (“Drawing the Self Portrait”), being the subject of someone else’s imagination (“Night Work at Jeff’s and Model”) and small portals into her intimate self (“First Beauty Lesson and Standing on the Sea Wall”), be prepared to swim with flying rhinoceroses, zebra finches, paper wasps and a horse that could be a grackle.
For just a taste of what you may find, here is “Wood Cut:”
At work across the room, he was silence—
            a book closed upon itself ,
but like her
made of lines that curved: the curve of his body
              Over his work,
The muscle of his carving arm, tensed, active.
Between them, a barrier,
               not material.
As if he lived within a mirror
Working backward,
             putting images into the wood.
She looked for him there
after the work was done,
                the bench vacated
the prints hung to dry…
was this evidence? Wood curls,
             tools
a roller blackened with ink.
And once, a jolt more backward:
             The made thing—
octopus, rooster, elephant,
and a face. Human. Her own face
             the too-large nose, mouth, eyes
into one dimension distilled,
unmade from herself—swoop of inked line
              dark lip
eyes without light
speeding away from the source —

but what source




Featured Poet: Nancy S. Foley, aka MC Hugs

Nancy S. Foley is a holistic mental health counselor with a private practice in Providence who also works at Tomas & Associates in North Smithfield. She is the present host of Got Poetry Live, which occurs every Tuesday at Blue State Café, 300 Thayer St. in Providence. The open mic sign up is at 7pm and it’s a random draw, so get there early to ensure a place to share your words.

Nancy, or MC Hugs as her friends call her, creates a warm and welcoming environment that literally embraces everyone in the room, perfect for those first timers on the mic, or poets wishing to give legs to a new piece of work. Her style when reciting poetry is fluid, most unlike the expected staccato of what we learn reading poetry is. She definitely brings lots of smiles and laughter to Blue State.
You will find her work engages the human spirit of courage under fire, which I assume is just her weaving every bit of her fiber, from holistic practice to being a mother of two, into every stanza scripted on page.
I asked Nancy for a quote about her work and she simply said, “I love to live life to the fullest capacity!” and as long as I have known Nancy, I couldn’t agree more.
Fractal Evolution
I walk
Large, cool drops bombard my face
Splatter on my glasses
Change my worldview
Changing the world’s view…..
Each clear raindrop is its own world, hurtling through space.
Are they aware of impending explosions upon surfaces?
Boundaries break millions of times over in a single rainstorm.
Millions of molecular changes occur in a single second.
Circles upon interwoven circles clash.
Mandelbrots’ mathematics reduces 3-D mandalas of raindrop ripples, seashells & hurricanes to numbers;
Language of equations equal unique spirals spinning on
multiple, intertwining journeys.
Collusions of equations plus INFINTESIMALLY SMALL breaths from butterfly wings equal unformed storms that stretch into unleashed hurricanes and typhoons,
Make us confront our own insignificance-
Points on the fractal design of human existence
reform into butterfly breaths,
whisper sweet nothings to us after the devastation of godlike perceptions.
Each explosive moment changes the landscape in butterfly-breath impacts.
Outer landscape changes mirror inner landscape changes reduce me to a dot in God’s eye but I can’t see the whole picture.
I need more time, more space, more courage…
                                    more courage….
Truth is in the expanse of existence, and yet, because we are immersed in this existence, we cannot fully comprehend the vastness of our fragile, fractal lives.
How we ARE butterfly breaths,
How we ARE absolute power
            as we shape this world;
            as shifting sun patterns shape the seasons.
Evolution changes us, we change evolution,
             spiraling, swirling, twirling to a dance
            we don’t know the next steps to.
New beauty emerges as rainstorm ceases,
as sun’s light shyly emerges,
as leaves bend, twist under weight of clinging, prismatic raindrops.
New fractal pattern….
Clashes of boundaries leave this world only-so-slightly changed.
We leave this world so-very-changed.
But all it is, is fractal evolution….