Quyen H. Nghiem writes poems about
work, childhood, boredom, love, wonders, getting fat, things that
happen, life. Fat jars of thick words. Sometimes he writes poems that
I suspect are not about anything, not caring to be understood. Do men
make chairs or liquor in order to be understood? When Quyen writes,
“one-million-year-old-light / hits my eyes / drink it in / then
forget it all!” his playful abrugeneity of verbage is fleeting, but
not urgent – like a naked boy peeing from a tree branch. That boy
is Quyen. He has published small chapbooks of songs bound with
string, one of which I own and will never give away. ~ Sean C. Taras
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