Elemental forces give potency to these simply worded poems.
Anton’s debut poetry collection places the body and spirit in a dynamic relationship with the cosmos.
The collection comprises four parts, each named for an element, and features short, often rhyming poems. In “Water,” an angry speaker mourns the fallout of political violence; the bombs, the blood, and the refugees create a contemporary hell. The effect of the violence, expressed in the language of war, is to obliterate the narrator: “They pressure me, I detonate.” The destruction of the speaker shows the direct, unavoidable effects of the external on the internal. The section “Earth” abstractly comments on the unpredictability of the everyday via landslides, erosion, cracks, roots, dirt, as well as flowers. A striking poem titled “Blossom” describes lovers as part and parcel of natural processes, blooming at night from the earth. “Water” is less successful, though a concrete poem in the shape of a temple impressively portrays the dissolution of fiery desire to watery lust. Many pages present two- or three-line “definitions” of a concept named in the title (almost all titles in the book appear below the poems, after a long dash, which creates the question-and-answer effect of a riddle). An aphoristic tendency, sometimes ironic, runs throughout: “Time always heals the pain. / But sometimes it feels as though, / The clock has stopped.” A phoenix appears sporadically, giving some balance to the bleaker moments. Finally, “Air” returns to the outward-looking impulse of compassion: “One spirit is worth the same as another,” a tired-sounding speaker says, imparting that equality should be obvious. But it’s the less didactic lines, as in a knockout poem like “Narcissus,” and the pure energy of surprising images, as in the fantastic downward view of a body’s wounds, “with lightning everywhere” under the skin, that shine.
Elemental forces give potency to these simply worded poems.Pub Date: Aug. 5, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-5369-2909-6
Page Count: 212
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Jan. 19, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2017
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
This compilation’s original works are offbeat but arresting, featuring far-out content in a melodic format.
Whimsical, melancholy, and death-laden songs make up this tuneful collection of poetry.
Much of Torgersen’s verse has a singsong quality, with strong meters and rhymes, repetitive choruses, and the use of dialect, especially West Indian patois. His subject matter and poetic moods, however, are often steeped in quizzical rumination and existential angst. A few pieces wander into overt philosophizing, including a colorful but dated prose essay that warns readers that “the long-legged wolf of consumerism runs unchecked as the lead dog in the world-wide Iditarod of capitalist oppression.” Some are songs that have been copyrighted by other authors, including the Paul Simon hit “Slip Slidin’ Away,” The Eagles’ “Hotel California,” Steve Goodman’s railroad ballad “City of New Orleans,” and Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come.” Torgersen reprints the lyrics of these and other copyrighted songs verbatim, without attribution. In an introduction, he contends that many of his early verses were “stolen” from him, but he offers no evidence of his authorship of any of the lyrics here that have been previously recorded and published by others. In dozens of what appear to be original poems, however, Torgersen’s verse abounds in cryptic lyricism. He often strikes a prophetic chord, admonishing readers in “A’ Them Gone,” for example, to “Hear me when I say / there is something here today, / and there can be no peace / ‘till it’s gone.” Surreal scenes course through many poems. “Big Hill Revisited” begins with “The space suited florist’s man / is dumping dead daisies / out the back of a blue van / into an alley at dawn.” Goats are also a substantial presence in the collection: “The Wind and the Goats” speculates playfully that “Maybe it’s the way they smell, / so strong and, well, goatey, / that keeps the wind from trying / to ruffle their hair,” and “Look Homeward, Now” mentions “a goat on display, / with his head on a plate.” In patois pieces, such as “After We Are Weevils,” Torgersen’s poetry sounds an earthier but still hallucinatory note: “After we are weevils, / they baked in we bread. / Ask me ‘bout it sometime, / and remember we dread.” Formed in 1960s countercultural music ferment, the poet’s voice wanders through various styles, from folk picaresque to morbid psychedelia, and his imagery is often intriguing, even compelling. Sometimes, however, the verses fall flat on the printed page (“Aaa aa aaa / mm aaa aa aa / A’ them gone, / gone away, / yes they gone, / gone to stay”). At its best, though, the musicality of Torgersen’s poetry packs a strong emotional resonance, as in the elegiac chantey “One Love”—“Strike up, ye band members, / and play soft and low, / for ‘tis alla we / beyond the sunset must go, / and relive the story / from those lost days of glory, / where we once walked / through life hand in hand.”
This compilation’s original works are offbeat but arresting, featuring far-out content in a melodic format.Pub Date: Dec. 15, 2014
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: 322
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: June 20, 2018
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Thrilling prose poems from a cherished writer.
A poet meditates on the things that everyday life does and doesn’t prepare us for.
Cox (Sorrow Bread, 2017, etc.), a Pushcart Prize and Whiting Award winner, takes the title of this elegant new volume of prose poems from Hamlet, whose titular character says, near that play’s climax, “There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all.” Hamlet is presumably talking about timeliness, but many of Cox’s pieces are, ironically, about untimeliness—about the events for which we aren’t ready. The book is dedicated to the author’s friend and fellow poet Jack Myers, who died in 2009. He memorializes his friend in “Wrought,” which opens, “Jack, our old age together lasted twenty minutes. The distillation of all we’d learned about economy…we sat rocking on the rented beach house porch—something we had joked about for years, the inevitable old poets’ home—and listened to gulls scavenge along the water.” The scene-setting here is gorgeous, but the poem is, at its core, a riff on its one-word title; “wrought” is both a craftsperson’s word—and what is poetry if not a craft?—and the base of “overwrought”: agitated, troubled, disturbed. The author mines both meanings, thinking back on his friend’s work while still clearly troubled by his early death. With such careful wordplay, Cox gives lie to the common notion that prose poetry is too formless to count as real verse. (Poet Charles Simic once said of prose poetry that it’s “regarded with suspicion not only by the usual haters of poetry, but also by many poets themselves.”) This collection proves that this suspicion has no basis in reality, as Cox is as careful with diction, rhythm, and even rhyme as one might be if they were writing strict alexandrines—and yet, his poems are as fluid and readable as Jack Kerouac’s novels.
Thrilling prose poems from a cherished writer.Pub Date: March 28, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-941209-78-3
Page Count: 80
Publisher: Press 53
Review Posted Online: July 3, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2018
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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