Prelutsky is back to make your day better, even if it’s already a good one.
Here come 103 more poems from the master of silliness; the guy must dream in poetry, his output is so steady and strong. And he is everywhere in the poetic world. He tackles grief—a young gent on the afternoon his hamster died: “It was a poor, unpleasant pet / That I should probably forget. / It never had a proper name… / I miss it deeply, all the same.” He introduces a disarmingly honest goblin—“I have an awful odor, / An unattractive voice. / I’m nasty and annoying / By nature and by choice.” He effortlessly turns a haiku conundrum: “All evening I sing, / Happy on a lily pad, / Celebrating spring.” He hands readers new words, little gems, for them to play with—“easy to abhor” or “Some unsavory subterfuge”—or lets them watch as he turns a world on its head: “…I thought I made an error once— / But I was just mistaken.” Urbanovic’s black-and-white artwork displays a comfortably free hand, roving between loose and scrunched as it depicts Prelutsky’s vast company of players: Gludus, Wiguanas, Appleopards and Flamingoats.
Welcome, heart-gladdening poems that never come amiss. (index) (Poetry. 5-10)
