Sound Over Sense Isn't New

John Ashbury judged the 2013 Walt Whitman Award and it shows. If you like John Ashbury or most post modern poetry you will like Chris Hosea's Put Your Hands In. If you are looking for a fresh approach to poetry, however, this is not your book.

Put Your Hands In is clever and fun. But original it is not. This is a collection where meaning can be found if searched for, but meaning is less important than sound. These poems are meant to be read aloud and in one sitting, which puts it in a tradition stretching back to Gertrude Stein. Some poems are collage poems in that they borrow phrases from elsewhere - newspaper clippings, other poetry, random conversations - and then mix them up pell mell to come up with something other. Some are composed entirely of half-finished sentences, an approach that is fun for the writer and interesting for the reader. The prose poems are effective, yet the most clever and thought-provoking piece, for me, is "Black Steel" which harkens to concrete or visual poetry.

Hosea here presents to us a crash course in 20th century poetics. Perhaps in an effort to convince himself or the reader that these approaches are still relevant in America today, he has heavily laced them with 21st century references to the digital. The result seems forced - not quite pretentious, but at least a little desperate.

Still, it is a delight of sound. Rhythm and alliteration ask you to consider the sound of everyday, even sometimes vulgar, language over the sense. Revel in cacophony and noise. Just don't expect to hear anything new.

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Legal Disclosure: I did not receive anything in exchange for this review nor have any affiliation with those involved in the book's making.

Goodbye With A Fist

The Book of Goodbyes by Jillian Weise has quite the list of accolades, including the 2013 Isabella Gardner Poetry Award and the 2013 James Laughlin Award. And it bites. Yes, you read that right: it bites.

Weise writes angry, brash, and sometimes brutally. This is a book with several chips on its shoulders. Very punk rock, very get off, very Bukowski. There is nothing pretty here. You have to bring the pretty with you as a reader and press insert. This book is like a wounded dog backed into a corner with the fur on its neck standing up. It's not growling, it's not barking; it is snorting and snotting in rage and almost malice.

But despite this don't-get-too-close stance: it is also intimate. Bitterly intimate, but still intimate. For instance, in "The Ugly Law":

... The maimed shall not

therein or thereon expose himself or herself
to public view under penalty of staring,

pointing, whispers, aphorisms such as "We are all disabled"
or "What a pretty face you have" or "God gives

And this, from "Poem for his Ex":

Does it make you feel better
to know he cheated with a handicapped
girl? I wonder if you have

any handicapped friends.
I don't know why I'm using that word.
It demoralizes me. Or if you don't.

This intimacy (which doubles as bitter advocacy, the way many African American poets write about slavery) serves to soften the hardness of this collection. So does the fact that it is arranged like a theatrical play. The table of contents is sectioned off into One, Intermission, Two, and Curtain Call.

For me, the most captivating things in this collection happen when Weise steps away from the confessional flavor of sex and amputeeism and assumes characters to reveal the deeper workings of her mind. The intermission section reads like a lonely but insightful meditation on modern human relationships. The Book of Goodbyes shows us what Bukowski would have written if he were female.

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Legal Disclosure: I have no affiliation with this author and did not receive anything for this review.

Adam Zagajewski's "Another Beauty"

(Originally published on Yahoo! Voices on April 21, 2011)

This is a uniquely written book that will echo in your consciousness for some time and readily welcome repeated readings.

It's difficult to catagorize this work. It reads like several genres at once. It has the lofty, heady, thought-provoking euphoria of poetry. It is compiled like a collection of quotes or vignettes. Time is not linear in this book. No, the memories recounted herein are written exactly as the flashes of meandering imagist thoughts that memories really are, colored as deeply by emotion and perception as by fact. Ultimately, this is a memoir of the Polish poet's years as a university student in Krakow in the 1960's and '70s.

Zagajewski grew up in Gliwice, next door to an empty, silent, and not yet fully acknowledged Auschwitz. He fully describes the ghetto of Krakow's Kazimierz District- he calls it "the graveyard quarter"- , once the home of the city's Jews who had been systematically murdered by the Nazis and which by then was almost empty and open to the elements and whatever weeds wanted to grow in the cracks of the floors.

He labors under the expectations of an ever-watchful Soviet state. He dwells much on how he managed to teeter on the fence between cooperation with totalitarianism and resistance to it. The colors of this book are dark- grays, browns, blacks, with an occasional wisp of indifferently blue sky. Most of his memories are of winter and heavy, reeking furs. But it is plain he very much loved Krakow. Perhaps his youth is accountable, but he seems to manage a happiness there that evades the rest of the poor and struggling population. It was anathema to throw anything away, even if it had broken, because there might be a time- and often was- when finding some way to force the broken piece to work was necessary for survival. People patched their clothes and bragged about how many decades they wore them. Elevators existed but were seldom operational. Zagajewski paints for us the vivid recollections of youth in a world of old, beaten, disillusioned, or deeply compromised souls- some of whom seemed to have had their souls completely stolen or killed outright. He shows us a people, including himself, who remained religious and frequented the churches and cathedrals as more than tourists. This, it seems, was coldly tolerated by a wearying regime. In fact, places of worship become havens of art as the book progresses, at least in his mind.

He talks about music a great deal. He dwells mostly on classical music and its masters, but he does open a window to the jazz bands that would frequent Krakow in the winter, and brought a completely foriegn but vital breath to the place. He also loves birds, particularly the contrast between swallows and blackbirds.

Woven throughout are excursions into the present: into beautiful, erotic Paris and very briefly to Houston, Texas, U.S.A.. These are the cities Zagajewski splits his time between now. His discussions of Paris are almost mythical in their fantasy. It stands in sharp contrast to the misery of Krakow, which is softened only by his youth and the dominant question of his life:

How to reconcile poetry and philosophy? (Interestingly, in an age when Freud was revered as a god, he did a master's thesis in defense of introspection under a professor who regarded Freud as a fraud of the worst kind. The unusual insight that shows impresses me.)

This book is a necessary read for anyone who loves poetry, is interested in history, remembers what it was like to live in the terrible shadow of the Cold War, and who loves life- the joys and the sorrows. I can't imagine a better book to have spent National Poetry Month 2011 with.

Learn more about Adam Zagajewski.

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Sally Van Doren's "Sex at Noon Taxes: Poems"

(Originally published on Yahoo! Voices on July 21, 2008)

Sally Van Doren, Sex At Noon Taxes: Poems,(Louisiana State University Press, 2008) 70 pages, poetry, $17.95 U.S. Winner of the 2007 Walt Whitman Award given by the Academy of American Poets.

Sally Van Doren presents a unique collection of poems that play with words, grammar, double entendres, and poetic devices freely and joyfully. The title Sex At Noon Taxes is a palindrome and the title of a painting by Ed Ruscha. It proves a most fitting title.

Van Doren loves nothing more than wordplay- and very little of it is subtle. In a typewritten interview included with the book Van Doren reveals that her father would correct their grammar as they discussed their respective days around the dinner table. He was a true stickler who delighted in proper English. Although she happily admits her use of that grammar is anything but strict, those evenings left their mark. Consider the poem Preposition:

The before took us right up to
the after, even though under
meant we should not try over,
from being stronger than to,

up shying from its ascent
in the face of down. I held
on to you and beside you
I became with and about.

In our around, the near/far
could turn away and toward,
within the without. By my above
and your below, the wheres and

whens retreated, leaving time
and space stranded, in off, on out.

This could be an account of those dinnertime discussions punctuated with corrections. It could be about the complexities of relationships. It could also be merely a game of playing with these words and grammatical phrases themselves. In any case, it makes for fun reading, don't you think? I especially enjoyed the image of "up shying from its ascent/ in the face of down." Van Doren clearly has an ear finely tuned to language and its peculiars.

This is also a poetry of deep emotional substance even in the midst of play. Sited is outstanding in this regard:

He was here then, back
when I was there; you
were with me; you weren't,

the then being before the
beginning of the unlife,
the not-thereness having
not yet taken hold of his

hand. The trust in his
estate was in its undoing,
the disassembled vehicle
of non-necessariness.

Many mounds of here
landed on his whereness;
we hoard them.

Such longing in this poem! The pain of separation, of neither party being where they were when they were together, is searing here. There is a straining against the nothingness, the emptiness, the wondering of what was and could have been. Absence is the center of this poem, even as it continues to play with wording and syntax. In fact, the play in this instance very much emphasizes the gaping hole that is grief. One is left feeling as if one were free-falling perpetually through an endless space that has no bottom, which is the very essence of the feeling of ultimate loss.

There is also another way in which the title is fitting. Van Doren displays something akin to obsession regarding visual art throughout the collection. An example in one poem equates the complexities of romantic love to various colors splashed randomly on a canvass. Even where there is not direct reference to painting or other forms of visual art, she demonstrates a skill in using words to create striking images in one's mind.

Van Doren's work here is athletic in its use of language, passionate in its use of imagery, and sensitive to the nuances of human experience. Not bad for a debut collection at all.

Learn more about Sally Van Doren.

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Rusty Morrison's "The True Keeps Calm Biding Its Story"

 

(Originally published on Yahoo! Voices on April 26, 2009)

Rusty Morrison, The True Keeps Calm Biding Its Story, (Ahsahta Press, 2008) 72 pages, poetry, $17.50 U.S.

Rusty Morrison here offers us her sophmore collection of poetry and It did, however, win the Academy of American Poets' prestigious James Laughlin Award in 2008.

Morrison is grappling with the death of her father. To her credit, such an experience is fundamentally indescribable. At least she tried. It almost feels as though she didn't have a choice. Most artists have no other alternative in the face of challenging events but to process them through art and so she has. The end result is a true, tangled labyrinth of emotion and clever lines. Morrison knows how to manipulate the beauty in language and occasionally a particular line will give pause.

But the book seems to fall short of its goal and flounder where it most needs to shine. At times, whole poems implode under the weight of what Morrison is attempting to describe although they do so spectacularly. The poet falls victim to loving her own sound too much. Many lines are clever descriptions and observations on life, but seem to have no purpose other than that. One is left wondering, "What was that about really? What is it she was trying to say?" Morrison thus allows herself to sabotage the full emotional effect for the sake of flowery music.

Every line in the book is ended with one of or a combination of the words "please, advise, stop". The idea of doing this is interesting and required a boldness that should be applauded. However, 72 pages are too long to sustain this effectively. What begins as an interesting structural and artistic device becomes annoying. After a while, Morrison's use of this device makes the work sound desperate, whiny, even boastful of her grief. From there it loses all emotion (and poetic value) and the lines roll off the tongue like cold excerpts from old telegrams.

Morrison used her art to try to make terms with one of the worst experiences of a person's life. I hope she did draw much solace from the effort. Ultimately, though, the collection fails if viewed as art alone. The True Keeps Calm Biding Its Story is an extremely ambitious project that over-stretches itself.

Learn about Rusty Morrison.

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Review of "You and Three Others Are Approaching A Lake"

(Originally published on Yahoo! Voices on March 9, 2012)

Anna Moschovakis, "You And Three Others Are Approaching A Lake" (Coffee House Press, 2011) 119 pages, poetry, $16. Winner of the 2011 James Laughlin Award given by the Academy of American Poets.

I was a little distracted by the title when first opening this. It suggested the scenes at Lake Silencio for this fan of the BBC series "Doctor Who". But, of course, Anna Moschovakis had nothing of the sort in mind when she penned her second poetry collection "You And Three Others Are Approaching A Lake." What did she have in mind? I'm not sure. The lake does have some metaphorical significance, but I couldn't sniff it out with certainty. What is clear is that this is poetry with a mission.

Moschovakis employs lines that are aurally as far from poetry as one can get. They are often almost dry statements which seem to be clipped from various news broadcasts and stitched together. This is not to suggest that this is not poetry, however. This is poetry in the sense of its not-showing-all-the-cards aspect. The careful choosing of her prosaic lines leaves a great deal unsaid, inferred, and the pregnant pauses are uncomfortable ones.

Moschovakis attacks everything Western culture is and she attacks it violently. From over-comsumption and waste to commercialism and materialism to what passes for recreation to the new lows that technology has allowed mankind to reach, she places the whole of Western vice before the reader and forces one to look long and hard at it. Not only does she bloody the culture itself but she also points out exactly what its effect on the human psyche has been. Humans are in the background of this collection and so are human emotions. In fact, those emotions society might consider as virtuous in a human being- desire, humor- are addressed only through the viewpoint of a "Human Machine" and "Annabot". Violence to the planet and its others species is a recurring theme. This is industrialized and technologicalized poetry. It is hard, unflinching, and it wounds.

The oddest thing about the four long poems that make up this book is that they do not feel political at all. One's logic says they are, that they must be and fiercely so. But they do not feel it. They do not read it. Somehow, despite extremely dark and heavy material, Moschovakis manages to maintain an intimacy that precludes an obvious political rant.

What Anna Moschovakis has achieved with this work is to rudely awaken her readers to a reality that is very uncomfortable to admit and nearly impossible to come to terms with. It is a reality so condemning that it is easier to forget it, ignore it, or remain in ignorance of it than to address it. Bravo to Moschovakis' bravery in not only making her readers consider it, but also in being willing to face it herself.

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"Marrow" Featured on SpicyLetter.net

Yon Walls, Senior Editor for SpicyLetter, has written a beautiful review about my little art book "Marrow" on SpicyLetter's Culture Spice section. She spoke of it as "a lovely, heartbreaking handmade chapbook" with "poems that emerge from a deep place of suffering and anguish as experienced by children with cancer and their families." She also printed the title poem. Read the entire piece here. She has graciously agreed to post a review of it on its Goodreads listing page in a few days. I will update this post when I see it. Another 4 reviews of "Marrow" are pending. Also, I am slated to be interviewed for SpicyLetter in the Autumn. Watch this space for that.

Other reviews, guest blogs, and promotions for "Marrow" since its publication to the present can be found as follows:

Field Recordings: "Sabne Raznik goes for the Marrow"

OwenSage.com: "Let's Get to the "Marrow" of the Matter" by Sabne Raznik

So, I Read This Book Today ...: "Fund Raiser For St. Jude's Hospital - 100 Copies Available!"

Other past interviews:

Pebble In The Still Waters: "Author Interview: Sabne Raznik: Poet, Writer and Member of Academy of American Poets"