What Is This Place We Have Come to [Paperback]

Pas' experience in pregnancy and birthing are discussed in many of the poems. In "a mapping," the first poem, the narrator professes: "i read the placenta's lines" and "i could bow down and worship you. i could please myself with thoughts of another body." These and other lines are a fitting ode to the wondrous experience in pregnancy. In "she thought of whales," the tribulations of motherhood are beautifully pondered: "& in her womb the stirring grew / so that was ocean...becoming all that she had to be / but waves beat her back...she will sigh tomorrow when this dream is done / token tides within her / empty arms & all."

Half-way into the collection, the title poem "what is this place we have come to" asks us to appreciate the moment, and every inevitable moment that follows, through physical and emotional release - "remember / this is nothing meant to sow unrest / but always something to believe." This poem gently bisects the book and seems to invite the reader to continue reading into the second half of the collection.

Emotions are described, dissected, and sometimes released as mantras. In "air in air," Pas confesses, "i know i love you much too tightly." In "fire water," she tells how, "the candle itself burst into flames / the flame itself burst into my eyes / my eyes themselves burst into water / the heaving waves you threw across me today were a coating of silver leaf." Mantras like the one in "prophet" are used to capture and channel understanding of emotions and physical states.

The collection reaches crescendo with "the trees of this woman" followed by a poetic triumvirate grouped under the title "dark mother." With "the trees of this woman," Pas offers a sprightly and passionate answer to Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself." Then, Pas concludes her collection with an ode to Kali, the Indian goddess, in the trilogy of "dark mother" poems. The first is "kali's song," a dedication to her creative process. She tells us: "it was the beginning that left me serene & empty...it was the worthlessness...these were times when i did not dream." Perhaps this is the beginning of creative thought, of the creative energies that sustain her. The energies are further described through Pas' stirring illustration of a physical being: "play your ilium-hipped fiddle / so i may dream of cardiac drums..." It is as if she is asking Kali to pay attention and assist her in the creative process. Finally, Pas tells us what she has learned from "benevolent kali" by admitting that "in the end there are always flowers / that asphyxiate in softness." The "dark mother" poems along with "the trees of this woman" offer a memorable ending to this collection of poems.

In general, the aesthetics of the poems look and sometimes feel like a reincarnation of the experimental form of e. e. cummings. Pas uses the period as a rhythmic and visual tool instead of mere punctuation, creating something akin to "poetic pointillism." This is both beautiful and unfulfilling for the reader. In general, the visual style of this book is lacking. The words on the plain pages deserve an ornate canvas of the poet's (or a collaborating artist's) own design. The visually pleasing cover of the book is appropriate, but the off-white pages ring hollow after numerous readings of these poems. I wonder if Pas should change the color and font of the poems. It would seem natural for her to do so. Perhaps future publications of these poems might inject a more fitting aesthetic in which to display Pas' work.

Overall, the poems exude a sense of peace - perceived, experienced, and sometimes lost - in the moment. By exploring the experiences of pregnancy, motherhood, emotion, anatomical necessities, and dreams, Lia Pas offers a diverse and profound collection of poems. "what is this place we have come to" is a lovely first book of satisfying poems from a promising and thought-provoking artist.