I thoroughly enjoyed this second collection of poems from Taije Silverman. From motherhood to misogyny to marriage, so many gems in there and I will be sharing a few of them in my poetry posts. I am starting to understand poetry little by little. Like learning snowboard, I just have to get past that painful period before could begin to enjoy poetry.

I had to read this collection three times to understand some of the poems. The first time I completely missed that his parents were divorced. The reason for the divorce was that his dad came out gay. In addition, Lam has many theories including God and smoking, but I can relate to him about drinking in “Anchor.” It’s a good collection from a Vietnamese-American fellow.

In his second collection, Best Barbarian, Roger Reeves delves into serious topics including violence, death, racism, police brutality, and fatherhood. His lyricism can be transpired from musicians including Alice Coltrane, John Coltrane, and Outkast. A stunning read even if I didn’t understand everything. More revisits are needed.

In Philomath, which means “love of learning,” Walker-Figueroa experiments with the forms of verse. I am still not getting used to the spacings. Am I still supposed to read from left to right and line by line? This collection is way over my head, but I love the typography, which sets in Adobe Jensen, designed by Robert Slimbach.

In Civil Service, Claire Schwartz sheds light onto the dark corner of the world run by power, profit, property, and prisons. Here’s a chilling excerpt from “Lecture on the History of the House”:

Inside the house, a man hits you.
Then you understand:
your body is the window.
Inside, you are already outside.

Next door, the Soloist domesticates a tune.

Poetry is a door without a house.

Theory is productive of the known.
Poetry is productive of the unknown.

How, then, do you know
what is true? These walls, this foundation,
in the pages of glossy magazines.
The newspapers scratch their heads.
Again, the hunters, budgeting.

At the end of the day, you return to what is not common.

It’s a beautiful, powerful collection with some simple line illustrations.

I don’t quite understand her poems. Although she uses plain words, her language is a bit strange. I like a few pieces including “How Kind” and “The Ruins.” I’ll give the collection a reread in the near future.

If you read my brief reviews of poetry books, you can tell that I don’t understand most of the poems. It could be the language barriers or I just don’t get poetry. Fortunately, Richard Blanco, Academy of American Poets education ambassador and Barack Obama’s second inaugural poet, explains the art of reading poetry in the introduction of 100 Poems That Matter, an anthology selected by poets.org. He gives us the license to read poetry without having to understand the meaning behind the work. He writes:

We often listen or sing along to songs without knowing exactly what all the lyrics mean, but we certainly do know how songs make us feel. In other words, we first allow ourselves to experience the feeling of a song, without trying to decipher what it means, precisely. It’s important to initially engage poems in a similar way and accept that, even though we may not fully understand them, we can feel them. If you are deeply moved by even just a few lines from one poem in this book, then you get poetry. Like music, poetry instills in us a complexity of emotions; as we ponder those emotions, we learn the deeper meaning of the poem. What’s more, there are many different styles and periods of poetry, just as there is in music. It would be silly to say that you don’t like music because you heard a song you didn’t like. Yet we often treat poetry this way, as if all poems are the same. Which is to say, give yourself permission to not necessarily love every poem in this collection, though I’m confident you will find at least one that will stir your whole being because we naturally do get poetry in the same way we get music. Read that poem aloud over and over again, the way we repeatedly play our favorite songs and sing along to them. Let the poem sing in you.

I read the entire anthology and found a few favorites. I will be sharing them on this blog. The book design is just lovely. The typesetting is so damn gorgeous.

Reading Richie Hofmann’s reminds me of Ocean Vuong’s. They are both very open about their sexuality. In “Mosquitoes,” Hofmann confesses: “I projected my homosexuality onto everyone.” And he sure did beautifully in A Hundred Lovers with lines such as, “the T-shirt he wiped his penis with,” in “Coquelicot.” I find his poems easy to understand and enjoyable to read.

I read all the poems from Baker’s Whale Fall, but I didn’t fully get them. For example, I like the vibe in “Extinction,” but I am not sure what he’s talking about:

When you are gone they will read your footprints,
if they still read, as they might a poem about love—
wandering in circles, here and there obscured,
washed out in places by weather, sudden landslide.
Keep walking, pilgrim. This is your great tale.

I need to keep learning about poetry by reading more poems.

I read Nicholas Montemarano’s memoir in one sitting and my eyes were watery. My sister and I went through what Nicholas and Jen had gone through. Our mothers fought fiercely against Covid, but they didn’t make it. I captured my experience through my blog posts while Nicholas captured his through poetic prose—what a heartbreakingly beautiful book.

I cried alone like Montemarano had eloquently expressed:

it was easier to cry alone
and I hoped that no one
would walk past and see me
and I hoped that someone
would walk past and see me
and ask are you ok
I prayed that my mother
would remain peaceful
and free from pain
and would be taken soon
though I didn’t want her to be taken
anywhere