|
The Peacock's Eye a story by Robert Klein Engler Alphabeta Press, 1999. $10 |
|
Robert Klein Engler lives in Chicago and New Orleans. He holds degrees from the University of Illinois at Urbana and The University of Chicago Divinity School. He was a department chair for many years at the City Colleges of Chicago until he was banned by the Chancellor in May,1997. He now teaches at Roosevelt University. His poems and stories have appeared in Borderlands, Hyphen, Christopher Street, The James White Review, American Letters and Commentary, Kansas Quarterly, and many other magazines and journals. He was the recipient of Illinois Arts Council Literary Awards for his poem "Flower Festival at Genzano," which appeared in Whetstone and "Three Poems for Kabbalah," which appeared in Fish Stories, II. His books, Medicine Signs and Shore Line, among others, are available from from Alphabeta Press or amazon.com. Return to Alexander, a book of sonnets, is available from iUniverse.com. The book, a novella, covers a young man's coming of age and coming out in India during a summer tour, while trying to escape the pain of unrequited love. I was particularly struck by the overly academic, archly superior western canon attitude from the main character during early descriptions of the country and people, becoming a gradual acceptance of the world that consumes colonizers. The sex scenes seemed much too timid, but that's just my impression, besides, this isn't meant to be porn, more like a romance travelogue, more meditation than exploration of the turmoil of a young man's sexual awakening. The affair with the young black man from Detroit, though, falls back on the too-familiar air of the exotic, the stereotype of the white male going buck wild once seduced by the 'primitive' atmosphere of the third world, in this case the slums, squalor and timeless mystery of India, allowing him to lose inhibitions and learn the true meaning of love from the more sexually aggressive dark lover. But then, that's just my impression. The familiar use of quotes at the beginning of the chapters, from sources as varied as the Bhagavad Gita, Fodor's, Carl Jung and Walt Whitman are an interesting touch, but slipping in the poem by Gloria Klein, even though it works in the book, seemed a little too cute. You can contact Alphabeta Press at Suite 1801, 901 S. Plymouth, Chgo., IL., 60605, or email them at alphabpres@aol.com. |
|
Penetration Steven M Glabman One Day Productions, 2001 (third printing). $3 |
|
Steven Glabman is a writer and visual artist, an insightful creator of visual anarchy as well as a charter member of the Unofficial Soup Kitchen, a global cyber-commune (his discussion forum there is called "There's A Garden In My Face"). He has been regularly featured at the Around the Coyote arts festival and his work has graced walls and screens at home and abroad. This is a little book of poems by Glabman and drawings done by him and Dean DeVries scattered throughout; nice touch that you don't know which artist did what drawing. the book was first published in 1984, and I have to admit that it shows; Glabman's recent poems far outshine this early effort of sometimes oblique, stream-of-consciousness poems. The surrealism is forced here and there and the images conjured up don't always lead to a coherent whole, sometimes the metaphors don't completely connect. "Three years after riding the train" seemed to be a string of somewhat connected images thrown together: I couldn't tell if "My Now House" was about experiencing an artists' house, or about an artist encountering a house; "Sad Sonnet" sounds like an obliquely referenced end to a relationship that wasn't there; I know what kind of political statement "No Thanks (giving)" was making, but it got lost in the jumble of clever metaphors: This is a cool book to trip on when you and a few friends are doing bong hits and have lounge music going in the background. Sometimes, that's all poetry needs to be. |
|
Just Mackin' at You Love Poems by Party Calvin and Friends Poet Star Promotions, 2001. $7.50 |
|
Calvin Glaze, originally from Los Angeles, has been an active presence on the Chicago poetry scene for a number of years as well as a tireless chapbook publisher. Mackin': The magazine format of Calvin's book allows for a broad use of satire along with the sentiment, and the obviously pasted together construction helps keep things light and entertaining. A very good selection of images are scattered throughout the book to accompany the poems, a hallmark of Glaze's design style.
The poems themselves are a decent mix - a poem about balls (art balls and the poet's balls); intellectual mackin' using very poetic language; "Big Rig" from Krystal Ashe, a cute play on words, substituting a semi truck for a penis, with the expected clever metaphors that come to mind (though it comes across better on the stage); a set of love letters from Ronald and Nancy Reagan (though I loathe the Reagans, and considered the letters very self-serving, name-dropping and congratulatory, the intentionally corny greeting card sentiments are definitely them); "Mira" by Reggie Gibson, a poem from his book Storms Beneath the Skin [previously reviewed in CTR]; a poem excerpted from the biblical Song of Solomon, an ancient love poem providing a contrast to the modern verse contained in the book; "Why I Write" by Pearl Cleage, a political love poem for her sisters and 'any brothers of good intentions who will take the time to listen'; and"My Neighborhood", Glaze's ode to an old pimp standing in front of a fleabag hotel: In a commentary that closes the book, Calvin's believes that black men need to surrender to Christ to fix what's wrong in the 'hood, though i have my own perspective on the damage that religion, or the abuse of religion by purported spiritual leaders has wrought on the black community, even though it was by and large the only institution that could kickstart the civil rights movement. As an expression of love for the community, though, it's a nice touch. Contact Calvin Glaze at Poet Star Promotions, 1512 N. LaSalle, Chgo., IL., 60610 |
|
Lot Of My Sister Alison Stine Kent State University Press, 2001. $? |
|
Alison Stine was born in 1978, partially deaf because of congenital microcia. In 1999, at age 21, she became the first and only female undergraduate poet ever published by The Kenyon Review. She has received a Pushcart Prize nomination, honorable mention in The Atlantic Monthly Student Writing competition, and was a featured poet on Poetry Daily (www.poems.com). Her work has appeared in Crab Orchard Review and is upcoming in The Paris Review. In 2000, this chapbook was a winner of the Wick Prize. Her plays and musicals have been performed at the University of Nebraska, The Cleveland Playhouse, and Off-Broadway at the Trilogy Theatre Group. A teacher at Denison University Reynolds Writers' Workshop and at the University of Maryland (where she is an MFA candidate), she lives outside of Washington, D.C., and dates the best drummer in the city. I like the way her poems create a depth of experience through the telling, quiet details that here and there convey a wealth of information and feeling. There's a great deal going on between the lines; you have to read the poems a second and a third time to get the full bouquet of memory and experience. There's an identification with people not deemed 'normal', but the poems are not strident p.c. anthems. These are personal poems; thoughtful, tapping emotions instead of exploiting them for impact - stripping a porch and remembering fragments of a relationship; an excellent short piece of a doctor in the wilderness having a biopsy of her breast as her mind wanders to Rembrandt and his mistress, who also had breast cancer; a cool poem to hair, natural and lost; a poem of silent sounds, unsaid words between a couple in the middle of the night: |
|
Singing Without Knowing Neil Diamente REDworks, 1999, $?.00 |
|
(I don't have a bio from Mr. Diamente. I received this copy from
him in July 2K1, during a 'Beach Poets' Sunday afternoon open mic. I
only saw him once after that before moving from Chicago. You may see a
bio here later, but after this review, maybe not - Ed.) And that's my first complaint, that there's no bio in the book for
readers to learn anything about the author, nor is there any contact
information on the author for those wishing to buy a copy the book
(the printer's address is listed, strangely enough.) Mr. Diamente's book has the strong stamp of years of stuffy
literature classes. The poems have a dry, stiff, clunky feel.
In many of them, he seems to reach for but not quite find the most
effective words to convey the theme, or he doesn't take chances in the
amount of emotion contained within them. In the first three poems,
for example, he contemplates the moon, changes his mind and questions
the poem posed, then insists on pursuing those metaphorical choices.
A quote from the ancient poet Rumi on the same subject seems to
settle the matter, but it struck me that this poem sparked the three
pieces in the first place, and his poems didn't come off that well in
comparison: Some of the poems are pseudo-profound philosophical musings,
unfocused half-rants against society, jumbled religious poems using
references only the poet knows. Some demonstrate why telling instead
of showing is so clumsy. Many of the poems don't match their titles,
where others are only too literal: Mr. Diamente needs to pull more poetry from the gut and develop his
own individual voice, not use the Canon as a crutch, and put his ass on
the line and invest more emotion in the verses. More content, less
adherence to form. Hopefully his next book will justify the obvious
expense and tasteful layout of this effort. I don't know if copies of this book are on sale in Chicago, but if you
can't contact the author, write to: |
|
Shoes in a Magazine Radomir Luza Jr. Pigling Bland Press, 2000, $5.00 ISBN 0-9643783-7-X |
|
Radomir Luza Jr. is a poet/writer/actor/director/stand-up comedian
who believes that an artist must entertain before he can inform. His work
touches on philosophical and metaphysical topics, without straying from
spirituality. Luza believes in awakening artists and non-artists alike
from their non-creative slumber, and helping them to contribute
generously and intelligently to the community. He has published seven
books, two broadsides and over 100 poems in such journals and websites
as Rouge Scholars.com, Poesy, Pegasus, The Aurorean, Cyber US, ZZZ
Zyne, Spare Change, Poet Magazine and Papyrus. He has written
eight plays, a number of comedy sketches, four novellas, and various
newspapers and magazines have published over 300 of his articles. Luza
was born in Vienna, Austria and raised in New Orleans, LA. He currently
lives in the Journal Square section of Jersey City with Monica, his wife
of three years and fellow artist and poet. Luza dedicated these 'early years' poems to his new home, New York City,
and I think it was a good move. They reflect the city, in ways beautiful and
jarring, in particular the unique joining of metaphors I never would have
imagined going together. The first time through, they stuck out like a sore
thumb, but on a second read they got under my skin and had me laughing out loud
and nodding in recognition, seeing what he was getting at, as in this poem on
the rigamarole of criticism and analysis that sometimes completely misses the
point: I'm a big fan of poetry that doesn't put technique or form between the reader
and the poet, and these verses let you in, even when some of them ride the outer
limits. Luza is true to his word in poems that lay out what it means to him personally
to be an actor, what chances you take and what it does to the gut; in inspirational
words to the talented to have faith and trust; in a seemingly offhand poem about
poetry that contains stark honesty ("bloody sunrise"). The love poems are intriguing as well - a past dream of 'what if' attempted in
New York, better left as a dream; the adoration of a true Barry Manilow fan and a
boy's unrequited love of football; a stark mantra of lost love where you'd swear you
could hear the person speaking those lines to himself in realization: A nice touch is the observation that these poems work on page as well as onstage
in front of a mic, no easy feat. The 'quiet' poems are also refreshing: |
|
Running Up Spring Street Maria McDonnell Circle Publications, 2002, $7.00 ISBN 0-9721801-0-9 |
|
Maria McDonnell conducts Creative Writing workshops for students
from kindergarten through grade 12. She is an officer on the board of
directors for Berks Bards, a non-profit organization that - among
other endeavors - runs a month-long poetry festival every April. Maria,
a graduate student of literature, lives in Fleetwood, PA. with her
husband and three sons. Running Up Spring Street is her first
published collection. Sweet, deceptively light and easy sliding from the page into my mind's eye, but
very full of substance, McDonnell's poems are a real treat. None of her verses bear
the burden that could so easily have been applied by a literature post-grad trying
to show off. Clear moments of life realized in three dimensions, many of them quiet
vignettes full of strong emotion: There are many love poems, romantic poems, pieces that made me envious and full
of hope that that one great love affair is still within reach. These aren't blind devotionals,
either - one anticipates sharing old age, another shares pizza and beer, the true
rites of intimacy, another shares the newness of being a mother. A casual glance would
judge these poems pleasant and sentimental, but there's years of living behind these
words: McDonnell includes a few other poems into the mix - homages to Margaret Atwood and
Lucille Clifton; a touching remembrance of her mother getting a tattoo; spending a
sunset on a beach that wouldn't bear any imprint of who was there; a spinster's
bloom-is-gone lament; a humble saint; a horrible slut and bad mother; the desperate
lonliness one finds in a bar; a subtle and funny tribute to Mary Tyler Moore: This is a great first book. I really look forward to reading more from Maria McDonnell. |
|
Poets' Groove, #6 S. Sebastian Petsu Self-Published, 2001 $1.00 |
|
S. Sebastian Petsu lives in a vegetarian cooperative
house in Philadelphia, where he challenges car culture
with his bicycle and works at a residence for the
formerly homeless. He frequently travels to far off
locations via Greyhound bus and sees Phil Lesh's band
whenever possible. He continues to produce his
self-published Poets' Groove series. The latest volume
is #10: "8 Short Dances."
This particular volume, "The London Notebook", contains fiction and poetry
written by Petsu between January and April of 2000 when he attended
Birkbeck College, University of London and did some backpacking around
Europe afterward. The short story, "The Bride of Christ and I", about a young man's ups
and downs with a friend who goes into a convent, is well written and nuanced.
Petsu writes with the experience of one who spent his time in Catholic school,
but the story isn't an anti-religious rant, it's a guy losing a girl and how
it makes him feel and what he remembers of her. I liked not knowing how things
ultimately worked out between them, no neatly resolved clichèd ending tacked on. "Back Porch Recollections" is a mix of poetry, vignette and prose of time
spent in a solitary writer's room, sometimes shared, sometimes a porous sanctuary.
There are just a few poems included in this volume, but I'd like to see more
of his work. The last prose selection, "Manipulative Soundtrack Music", talks about the
sounds that echo from inside your head, from countless Hollywood movies
reverberating. It's funny and thoughtful. Based on this installment of the series, Poets' Groove is well worth
collecting, and hey, you can't beat the price. |
|
Lollygagged and Flannel Flogged Adam Watson iUniverse.com, Writers Club Press, 2001, $10.95 ISBN 0-595-17495-7 |
|
Born in Kokomo, Indiana on February 7, 1974, Adam Watson lived in
Las Vegas and Crete, Greece before moving with his mother to
Louisville, Kentucky in 1981. His short play The Birdbath was
performed at Bunbury Theatre in 1995. he is currently an English major
at the University of Louisville. Lollygagged and Flannel Flogged
is Adam's first published book. The foreword of this cool book is alone worth the price. Mr. Watson's
philosophy of poetry is one that I and most of my performance poetry friends
from Chicago have expounded for years - that intentional obfuscation set to
verse to demonstrate high intelligence and artistic originality is bullshit,
that it shows utter contempt for the reading and listening audience. I've
always said that a two minute poem that requires a five minute introduction
is a piece of crap, that art that must be explained is next to worthless and
such precious creators need to get over their elitist, over-educated asses.
So what that they get more ink space than poets who communicate to the
Reader instead of down to the Reader? In the grand scheme of things,
poetry is still a minor player in the art world outside of academia...sorry,
but, being a saloon poet, this is a favorite rant of mine. Anyway, Mr.
Watson's book is a fine collection of eclectic intelligence, poems full of
inspired twists of metaphor that aren't just clever to impress, cool insights
that don't push their emotions at you either. The best poems never have to
wield a sledge hammer, become anthems or rabble-rousing speeches (nothing wrong
with anthems, they just aren't poems...) There are too many great poems in Adam's book to do them all justice,
so, to mention just a few: poems triggering your own memories of school, friends,
funerals, particular mornings-after staring at strange faces; hilarious poems
about poetry; the reality and raw grind of the touring troubador's
life; an intelligently erotic tale of a lap dance, told from both sides: The one-liners scattered throughout are gems: The photos in the book, by Douglas Staley, are an excellent complement to
the poems in the book; not there to illustrate any of the pieces, but as poems in
their own right, sparking introspection in concert with Adam's words. Mr. Staley
lives in Louisville and is currently working on an Arts degree. This is the
first time his photos have been published. This is a great book of verse, let alone being Adam's first. I look forward to
reading, and hearing, his poetry in the future. Here's one last
sample for the road:
|