Read an Excerpt from Precedented Parroting by Acclaimed Poet Barbara Tran

Pushcart Prize winner Barbara Tran has seen her poetry published in some of the most formidable literary journals in the world, including The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and Ploughshares, and we're excited to share an excerpt from her new book of poems, Precedented Parroting (Palimpsest Press).

It is a collection full of rhythmic virtuosic writing that truly stands apart, with poems that draw upon the author's personal archives and explore the natural world in a singular voice. Tran challenges assumptions and stereotypes, and her words are a graceful as they are keen. 

Here's an excerpt from Precedented Parroting, which we're delighted to share with our readers. 

Excerpt from Precedented Parroting by Barbara Tran

Blue from a Distance

filoplume semiplume
     bristles
        an empty

calamus Feathers receive
     no nourishment They are
        dead

structures On a bird
     feather each barb
        holds smaller

barbs On us
     each loss
        encompasses smaller

losses Feathers soften
     the lines
        where different parts

of the body meet They sculpt
     the body
        into a teardrop

shape There is a phrase
     in Vietnamese chia buồn
        sharing sadness

In my family’s case
     it’s like Jesus
        with his two

fish and five
     loaves of bread A
        boundless

supply Except
     in our case it’s salt
        on salt

sadness
     layered atop sorrow
        The calamus lies

beneath the skin
     The rachis holds
        two vanes A layer

of keratin
     allows space
        for light

to play Large
     tail feathers can act
        as a rudder help

with braking There is no
     blue pigment in bird
        feathers Blue feathers

are a result
     of structure reflection
        wavelengths

bouncing In Vietnamese
     there is no
        specific word

for blue It shares
     the same name
        as green To distinguish

you might say
     the xanh
        of leaves or xanh

as the sky
     which today
        is the furthest thing

          from blue

_______________________________________________________

Excerpt taken from Precedented Parroting by Barbara Tran, published by Palimpsest Press. Copyright 2024, Barbara Tran. Reprinted with permission.

Barbara Tran’s poetry has been published in Conjunctions, The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Ploughshares, and Poetry. Her chapbook, In the Mynah Bird’s Own Words, was the winner of the inaugural Tupelo Press chapbook award. Barbara is also the recipient of a Pushcart Prize, Bread Loaf Scholarship, and MacDowell Freund Fellowship. She is a co-editor of Watermark: Vietnamese American Poetry and Prose, 25th Anniversary Edition and a co-writer of the short XR film Madame Pirate: Becoming a Legend, which was an Official Selection of SXSW and the Melbourne International Film Festival and in competition at the Cannes Film Festival. Barbara’s writing is made possible through the supportive company of former shelter and rescue dogs.