| Welcome to the homepage of Andy Quan's "Bowling Pin Fire" | ||||||
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Description: |
In his second book of poems, Andy Quan
recounts a series of firsts: first time listening to Joni
Mitchell’s Blue, first loss of a friend,
first dance with a man. Building on earlier explorations
of memory, sexuality, and culture that are the signatures
of his best work, Bowling Pin Fire transcribes the
arc of one man’s life from growing up Chinese in Visit Signature Editions for more information. |
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Back Cover Blurbs: |
“Quan writes with an enticing style
whose conversational simplicity blossoms smoothly into
intricate, evocative imagery; the result is poetry both
musical and highly visual.” —Richard
Labonté, Lambda
Book Report “…Careful crafting,
empathy and expressive language… because of [his]
compassion, craft, and talent that I can recommend the
poetry of Andy Quan without hesitation.” ——Alex
Boyd, The
Danforth Review |
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Author's note: |
I'm delighted to have my
2nd book of poetry published through the graces of
Signature Editions, and the help of a fine editor, John
Barton. That's all I have to say for now! |
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Events |
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Press |
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Reviews |
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A Poem From The Book |
Speaking
Your Poetry Aloud Breathe a mixture of elements, at
least some oxygen added. Forget the unpaid
bill, the text message from Mom. Stare
into the crowd. Know you’ve got
something they want. Then own it, call it
home. Sing out of every complex cell.
Music finds its way, a hermit crab
skipping from an outgrown shell to one that
fits. Advice I got on road-crossing in find a gap in traffic, slip in,
stride at a steady pace across the road, no sudden
movements, don’t rush or panic, the
motorbikes and cars will find their way around
you. When it’s dusk, cross as if
this is the last step you’ll take, the click of
your feet as they hit the ground, a metronome for your use
alone. Let it all hover in the air like fireflies
released from a jar, your mother’s
caught you— release release their light is no
good dead see them pirouette, rearranging their constellations, even if you have
never known fireflies and this analogy is
misplaced. Silently watch them a few seconds
then bow your head just so, everything seems
better. That they’re now outside,
punctuating sentences the night is writing
freehand. |
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