Spare, powerful, well-calibrated poems that perceptively anatomize grief.

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The Widow's House

A collection of poems explores loss and its aftermath with stark thoughtfulness.

The work of Chmielarz (Visibility: Ten Miles, 2015, etc.), an accomplished poet, has often been published in literary magazines; “On Green,” included here, won the Jane Kenyon Award from Water-Stone Review. This collection is arranged in three parts, each with its introductory poem: “At the Cave’s Entrance,” “The Widow’s House,” and “Tastes.” The first of these helps establish something about the speaker’s husband and their relationship, which gives force to later poems as they develop. He doesn’t like the cave’s darkness on his guided tour; “He’d had enough of that / as a refugee,” writes Chmielarz, deftly suggesting much more to that story. She uses enjambment to good effect, propelling the reader, like a descending tourist, down through the poem to an unexpected place: “No, caves offered no thrill / for him. Much warmer, // making his way through / the darkness inside me.” Those lines have the pride and wonder of someone who loves and is loved. But they are valedictory; the poems turn to illness, the writer’s awareness she will be alone, the funeral, the grief counseling, the loneliness. Throughout this fine collection, Chmielarz’s well-crafted lines get the most out of every word. They seem to place their feet with the stunned, careful precision of someone who is holding herself together with every resource she has. These resources include Chmielarz’s mastery of tone, through which she transforms unbearable grief into multilayered, quietly emotional, often ironic conclusions. For example, in “When Are You Coming Back? I’m Getting Tired of Waiting,” the speaker contrasts generic applies-to-everyone advice with the definite particularities of her husband—his forehead, for example, his frown, how he lifts a brow. The poem’s last lines are “And I’m to let you go? / Like some balloon? The grief counselor says yes. / Quietly yet firmly, yes. / I raise my chin and say nothing.” The saying is in these poems, which never wallow in self-pity but instead fearlessly probe bitterness, jealousy, undesired courage, and bleak longing with lapidary attention to language.

Spare, powerful, well-calibrated poems that perceptively anatomize grief. 

Pub Date: Oct. 19, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-9908670-8-1

Page Count: 86

Publisher: Brighthorse Books

Review Posted Online: May 7, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2016

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A volume of poetry and prose that offers heroic visions of urban African Americans.


A debut multigenre collection of short pieces presents vignettes focusing on the lives of African Americans from a variety of perspectives, both real and fanciful.

This eclectic anthology begins with an autobiographical sketch, “P Is for Pride and Perseverance,” in which King traces his early years from his 1979 birth to a 16-year-old mother to his incarceration for attempted robbery and his subsequent determination to do something positive with his life. “Baby Girl” reprises the story of King’s birth from his mother’s point of view, a girl whose teen pregnancy seems predestined by both her grandmother’s clairvoyant dreams and her own limited expectations. Other narratives are linked by shared characters, such as “Posse Up, Ladies First!” and “Thug Angel,” which provide somewhat idealized portraits of street gangs as building blocks of the black community. “Battle Kats” is an SF work about a group of humanoid felines from another planet who work undercover to defend Earth and its alien allies. The central section of the book is occupied by a collection of 21 poems. Some, like “Hold on to Love” and “Away From Home,” focus on romance while others, such as “The Rent Is Too Damn High!” and “Blockstars,” illuminate the experiences of working-class African Americans in inner-city neighborhoods. “Remember Me?” calls up the spirit of LaTasha Harlins, a young black woman shot by a Los Angeles shop owner in the early ’90s, speculating “I wonder what you could have been LaTasha?” King’s efforts to describe his personal struggles and the vibrant characters who populate impoverished black communities are ambitious and dynamic. His prose narratives are too short to feel really complete, but they deliver glimpses into a world mainly familiar to the urban poor, where drug dealing is one of the few available career choices, incarceration is a rite of passage, and street gangs view themselves as community leaders. While the author does have a tendency to romanticize life on the street, as in “Posse Up,” in which a girl gang maintains a strict “code of principles,” his writing presents a vision of what could happen if people worked to “play a part in the improvement of the community.”

A volume of poetry and prose that offers heroic visions of urban African Americans.

Pub Date: March 10, 2011

ISBN: 978-1-4568-8093-4

Page Count: 124

Publisher: Xlibris

Review Posted Online: Jan. 6, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2020

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A nihilistic poetic remembrance that will appeal most to older teens and 20-somethings.


Davis recounts the confounding pressures of his 1990s childhood in this debut memoir-in-verse.

When telling the story of your life, one might as well start at the very beginning. That’s exactly what the author does in this memoir, which he describes as “a thing like a very long lie to yourself.” Specifically, he tells of how “The White-Gloved Sheriff / kicked in the door / and / Pulled me” from his mother (whom he calls his “Supervisor”; he later calls her “the Computer Science Major,” “the Waitress,” and other occupational names). Unusually, he had horns and a lot of hair at birth, he says. He was immediately at odds with the people and other living things around him—his parents, his brothers, his family dog. As a toddler, he created an imaginary world for himself known as “FU,” which was “Filled with things that looked like me / And where things made sense / I was King.” His earliest years were characterized by horrible discoveries (school work, isolation, crushes, problems in his parents’ marriage), but his teen years proved to be an even greater series of highs and lows, involving confusion over geopolitical events, friends, computers, pornography, and marijuana. Like a novice who can’t quite figure out the rules of a game, Davis bumbles forward—all horns and fur and misunderstanding—inadvertently angering authority figures as he seeks an adequate method of self-expression. The poem is composed in short, direct lines, enjambed to emphasize particular words or phrases rather than establish a consistent overall rhythm. Davis’ idiolect is inventive in its names for things (siblings are “life partners,” pets are “prisoners,” teachers are “Part-Time Supervisors,” and so on), and his outsider’s observations of society are shrewd and often funny. However, the combination of snark and self-seriousness causes some poems to come off as petulant and cloying; as a result, it’s difficult to imagine anyone over the age of 22 finding the work emotionally affecting. Even so, the tone and style, coupled with debut artist Klimov’s truly engaging black-and-white illustrations should captivate readers of a certain anarchic mindset.

A nihilistic poetic remembrance that will appeal most to older teens and 20-somethings.

Pub Date: May 25, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-71806-449-2

Page Count: 143

Publisher: Nada Blank Press

Review Posted Online: Nov. 24, 2018

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