Posthumously published from his MFA thesis, Jason Bradford’s Stellaphasia (North American Review, 2023) chronicles life inside a disabled body. It’s unfair to say that this collection is about being disabled or having a disability, though. This is a book of emotional observations, connection and communion. Bradford — a University of Northern Iowa alum — has lived as we all do, but he writes like a watcher.
The title of the collection is borrowed from the opening poem and combines Bradford’s difficulty with breathing and speaking (aphasia) — a side effect from his muscular dystrophy — with the stellar. As a collection, Bradford’s preoccupation with that which is elemental and ethereal, the title speaks to every single poem it presents.
Bradford’s felicity is underscored by his use of visual poetry: he cuts words into halves and syllables, using enjambment as illustration. In a few poems I noticed mixed meanings part way through and went back, reread, built understanding upon a scaffolding. If his content weren’t humbling on its own, his deftness with language might be overpowering. As it is, the two complement each other and build depth in interaction.
The split words appear throughout the book, including in two titles: “Alter/native” and “dis●ease.” In the poem “Confessions #4” many of the split words could be read as separate words and every instance requires a review. For example: “The ocean mass / ages my ear / drums / to sleep” and “A star / fish buries its / elf in my lower man / dible.”
There are several poems in response to visual art by other artists, in particular photos by Vivian Maier (there is a QR code in the notes at the end of the book, showing each photo with its associated poem) which seem to be explorations of empathy and mortality, as in the poem “After A Photo Of A Dead Horse By Vivian Maier”: “i’m not religious, but i understand religion / because i understand metaphor, or / i understand how / we use metaphor to say / what cannot be said. // how a dead horse is never / just a dead horse / is never just.”
Each poem, but the collection as a whole even moreso, is impactful perhaps because of how cavalier Bradford is in discussing his disability. He filters everything through his muscular dystrophy, “but to you / the disabled body comes off / like a sweet attempt / at sentiment / to wilt your heart.” he says in “The Disabled Body [2].”
Every experience Bradford details or dreams of is potent because of its ability to be at once deeply symbolic and simple. This collection is some combination of domestic and surreal. This collection sticks to your bones and makes you dream. It hurts knowing his experience, knowing his death is coming. The first thing I did upon finishing Stellaphasia was write a response to Jason Bradford. I didn’t get up. I didn’t start this review. I replied to the book, to “A Matter of Stasis / Matter of Stasis”: “my friend was alive until i woke to a call ringing otherwise.”
This article was originally published in Little Village’s August 2023 issue.