Showing posts with label susana h. case. Show all posts
Showing posts with label susana h. case. Show all posts

Friday, December 15, 2017

Drugstore Blue - Susana H. Case (Five Oaks Press)

Today's book of poetry:
Drugstore Blue.  Susana H. Case.  Five Oaks Press.  Newburgh, New York.  2017.


Today's book of poetry is a big fan of Susana H. Case.  Milo, our head tech, came out of the stacks with 4Rms w Vu (Mayapple Press, 2014) which Today's book of poetry looked at back in January of 2016.  You can see that here:


Milo also found Case's Manual of Practical Sexual Advice (Kattywampus Press, 2012) and The Scottish Cafe (Slapering Hol Press, 2002).  Today's book of poetry has read and enjoyed all of these Case titles.  Drugstore Blue is the best yet.

Susana H. Case has a beautiful swagger.  In our misogynist world we expect it from certain types of men but we haven't come far enough that this kind of swagger doesn't stand out.  And it's not like male; I'm bigger, better, stronger swagger - it's more of a "I'm smart and I've come out to play" swagger.  An entirely different beast.

Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go

In the street, I find an acoustic guitar,
no name on it, so I decide it's mine
and learn some chords from
a pretty boy ten year younger
whom I retrieve from a SoHo party.

He plays in a garage band. He likes
my long, ironed-straight hair, how I
remove my clothes, their erratic cuts,
easy to toss on to a chair. For a week
we don't leave the apartment.
He makes no plans to go home, but home
is Sweden, so that's understandable.
I strum and roam through rooms,
feeling like a folk goddess.
"I'm leaving on a jet plane," I sing.

You ever spend a whole week naked, talking
about nothing but folk rock? But then
we run out of food and being with him begins
to seem like shoplifting.  You ever do that,
take what you want just to see how it feels?

...

Susana H. Case is all about empowerment in Drugstore Blue and it is a book I want my sisters and my wife to read.  Case isn't asking for anything, bless her cotton socks, she's telling us the new home base like she were the umpire of common sense.

Today's book of poetry enjoyed these poems in part because they remind me of my very favourite women, my wife K, and my sisters, the estimable Luba S, Donna (reigning Queen of The Nasty Grrls) and so on.  None of them are full time poets but they are all this sort of smart, this sort of strong.

I hate when poets are referred to as brave, they are writing poetry not charging the front lines into machine-gun fire and grenades.  But Today's book of poetry sure does have a lot of time for Case and her enthusiastic embrace of a strong woman's mantra.  Only the strong poets are this carnal without sounding licentious.  Case makes a strong case for passion.

Jeanne Moreau, I Love You

In the film, Jeanne Moreau has two lovers,
a rich one on his polo horse and a poor
archaeologist, connoisseur of good bones.
The husband in Dijon is unbearable
in his sarcastic neglect of her.
How can anyone resist her pouty lips,
dismissed by camermen as not photogenic--
I want to kiss those lips.

Her orgasm, shown as a trembling hand
labeled The Lovers pornographic
until Justice Potter Stewart at the Supreme Court
ruled, I know it when I see it, and this is not porn.

I remember, sadly, in an interview, she announced
that sex as an older woman was undignified.
But, in the film she's young, and her existence
as domestic furniture deviates
in unexpected ways: One night of making love

and there she goes with the new lover, in his Citroen,
away into the sunrise, into a revised life,
escaping the death so resident in her old one.
And sex is a little death, sure,
but escape from death too,
done here to the music of Brahms.
Besides, her archaeologist makes her laugh.

I don't want to see her die for not one,
but two indiscretions, this being 1958.
What courage she has driving away
from the Lake of Indifference to Terra Incognita,
as the map drawn at the beginning
of the movie lays out the land of love!
Not even one time does she look back.

...

Today's book of poetry loves Jeanne Moreau, how could you not?  Some of the staff here had to do a quick search for Moreau and got a quick tutorial from Kathryn, our Jr. Editor, on Ms. Moreau and her films.  Our morning read was splendid.  The women on the Today's book of poetry loved Case and Drugstore Blue like it was fresh popcorn drenched with real butter.  The men at Today's book of poetry loved the optimism in these poems.  Susana H. Case even makes men sound redeemable.

When Case goes all dark the lights in the room go out as well.  Case gets you to surrender all your defenses with reason and then she starts swinging her emotional battle-axe and takes no prisoners.

Case is a many sided die, but each side is clearly demarcated.  Drugstore Blue is a velvet hammer.

Torpedo

Hedy Lamarr, runaway trophy wife
of a businessman dealing in shells and grenades,
calls George to ask about glands:
George Antheil, crime writer,
master of pneumatic piano rolls--
his hobby is endocrinology.

She's worried; Louis B. Mayer, studio boss,
doesn't want another flapper,
is dismissive of her flat breasts.
He wants a glamour-puss.

Any girl can be glamorous, she sighs.
All you have to do is stand still
and look stupid.

From breasts, the talk shifts to weapons.
Instead of a torpedo bra,
Hedy and George invent a radio-controlled
guidance system for torpedoes,
an early smart bomb, voluptuous and busty.

They patent it in 1942. Its parts allude to punched
piano rolls, sixteen perfectly synchronized pianolas
in Antheil's Ballet Mecanique
(scored also for airplane propellers).

The Pentagon bosses are as dismissive
of their invention as Louis is of her breasts,
can't grasp a player piano in a torpedo,
refuse to believe
this beautiful woman so nude and orgasmic
running through the woods in the film, Ecstasy,
so glamour-puss,
could also be smart.

...

Susana H. Case is the smart woman who has no fear of shining.  These days when there is so much paste disguised as gem stone, Susana H. Case is mining diamonds.

Susana H Case2b

Susana H. Case

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susana H. Case is the author of five books of poetry, most recently, Drugstore Blue, new in 2017 from Five Oaks Press, and 4 Rms w Vu from Mayapple Press, as well as four chapbooks. One of her collections, The Scottish Café, from Slapering Hol Press, was re-released in a dual-language English-Polish version, Kawiarnia Szkocka by Opole University Press in Poland. Her poems appear widely in magazines and anthologies. Recent poems can be found in: The Cortland Review, Fourteen Hills, Portland Review, Potomac Review, and Rattle, among others. Dr. Case is a Professor and Program Coordinator at the New York Institute of Technology in New York City.

BLURBS
“In Drugstore Blue, Susana H. Case’s speaker is a femme fatale in serious eyeshadow: ‘You need me / like a tongue needs a second / mouth.’ That’s the sound of her craft, one of her dart-like declarations, hitting its mark. Rarely has makeup, and the color blue, in particular, come alive on the page like this: ‘Blue all the way to the brow, an eyelid / tin-glazed, / underglazed, / sancai lead glazed, / oxide blue glazed, / a glaze of blue not born of the blues, but the antidote, / spring blue, felice blue, / green dragon constellation blue, / occult knowledge blue, / the eye of God.’ Need I say more? Her poetry reads like a graphic novel, a romp, a road-trip in a borrowed car, speeding with a wild child at the wheel. Vivid, direct, episodic, and utterly believable, Case’s tropes make excellent landings. From Morandi to Velvet Elvis, from Marrakech to Cartagena, eros is never far off, and her text glitters on the page in a poetry of great precision.”
     — Elaine Sexton, author of Causeway and Prospect/Refuge
“Susana H. Case’s Drugstore Blue offers the edgy yet compassionate and sometimes racy odyssey of a woman coming of age. The poems, wonderfully complex both in their craft as well as their emotional depth, often widen into larger mythological and historical realms. Case’s fine ear and wit are deeply satisfying.”
     — Sally Bliumis-Dunn, author of Second Skin and Echolocation

“Susana H. Case dedicates Drugstore Blue to her maternal grandmother who, ‘In her youth, having never seen a ship… considered crossing an ocean and thought, Yes, I can do that.’ Case clearly inherited her grandmother’s courage and curiosity. The speaker in these poems explores terrain both internal and external—from callow youth to vibrant maturity, from Bushwick to Zimbabwe. More seeker than tourist, she keeps her eyes wide open and invites her reader along for the adventure, forcing us to see what goes on in the world we inhabit, even if it does ‘cause inconveniences, / like thinking.’”
      — Grace Bauer, author of The Women at the Well and MEAN/TIME



"Copiapò" by Susana H Case, from the poetry anthology "Rabbit Ears"
Video:  Rabbit Ears TV


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Thursday, January 21, 2016

4 Rms w Vu - Susana H. Case (Mayapple Press)

Today's book of poetry:
4 Rms w Vu.   Susana H. Case.  Mayapple Press.  Woodstock, New York.  2014.

Susana Case - 4 Rms w Vu - front cover

There is nothing better than the powerful whisper-blow of Ben Webster's tenor and that is what we are listening to this morning in the Today's book of poetry office.  It's -19 C or some other ungodly temperature outside.  Every time Milo and I want to have a smoke we have to bundle up like explorers.  We both end up looking like kids going off to kindergarten, everything but mittens on a string.

But now that we are back here in our warm office and listening to Ben we can tell you why we are excited by Susana H. Case and her utterly vibrant 4 Rms w Vu, although given any sort of chance Case would handle that with aplomb.  Case writes our kind of poetry.  Her poetry is down to earth, wildly emotional but almost controlled, anarchy of the best kind.

And Now Let's Revisit Sex and Death

Getting into bed with you,
it's afternoon, my mind on play,
I'm wearing chiffon, I'm grinning
like the cows have already come home
for me when you say,
could you take a look at my lip -- I'm thinking cancer,
which of course stops the whole thing dead
while we go to the lamp
get you angled right and yes,
there's something there, could be anything,
there's a definite thing that doesn't belong,
like a dog in a tree
and you couldn't know the number of my women friends
whose men are no longer here,
how it always starts with,
could you look at this bump on my neck, this spot on my leg,
as if any of us had expertise in more than fear and rage,
rage because you just had to wrap your lips
around your smoke, didn't you, instead of around
some more compliant part of me,
always this conjunction of sex and death,
it's like the good twin hopelessly
sharing a brain with the evil twin,
the one who pops open a beer,
whispers, go ahead--light the match--mess it all up,
through nicotine-yellow teeth, the one
who makes me think that if you're ill,
I'll shoot you myself, kill you right now
for carelessly leaving me in this fucked-up place alone.

...

Case has no problem leading with her heart but be careful because she is coming for yours and she is a take-no-prisoners poet.

4 Rms w Vu takes the reader to the steppes of Kazakhstan, the Adirondacks, a car accident in Kansas and  a new apartment in New York City.  The last Inca ruler plays a part and so does Charlie Parker.   Susana H. Case is an equal opportunity poet.  But regardless of the setting she is always aiming for some new truth, a better understanding of the tumultuous relationships that make us human.

While Case is striding through all this scenery the important consideration is how engaged you become as a reader, how invested you become in the outcome.  Case is all about relationships but has no trouble at all blowing them up to get a better look at what was inside.  And we get to go along for the frenetic ride.

Girls You Could Love

girls you could fuck
and straddle-both-world girls
like me, you showed off

to your friends. Peaking early
girls. Peaking late. Prom queens.
Science girls. Nasty girls.

Straight-A girl with my intricate
knowledge of each protrusion, slit,
crevice. Don't forget the stockings,

the heels, you'd say, fetish boy
with your dual-career
parents, your empty house,

housekeeper who pretended
not to notice, the gilt phones I laughed
about to my friends. So good to be

inside you--or--you
inside me. I got so lost in it. My parents
who devoured relationship

books frowned, symbiosis
--a big word for us, fat
on the tongue--and yes,

I thought I'd crumple without
you, but also knew to direct you, slowly
run your hand up here, along the 15 denier

nylon you had so crazily fixed upon. Little
garter button indents red on my thighs
that read: the one with these legs

knows exactly how to want.
Anyone who thought the power was yours
really didn't understand.

...


Case is trying, quite diligently, to break down all impediments to the truth in these narratives.  These poems hit like a wrecking ball.  4 Rms w Vu reminds us here at Today's book of poetry of Maryse Holder's Give Sorrow Words, if only for a moment.  Case has some of the same intensity of emotional clarity and frankly, some of the same female anger that compelled Holder.

That's not a bad thing at all.  

Today's book of poetry loved Give Sorrow Words and we are quite fond of Susana H. Case at the moment, we have nothing but admiration for any poet who is willing to put it all on the table.

Incantation

The best thing to die from is living.
Let me kill myself slowly with pleasure.

Let me dance round and round in circles first.
Let me blow a lot of fuses.

Let me age like a good slab of steak, tender
with the mold trimmed. Let me be

a car going 80 miles per hour.
Let me reach 80--the exquisite

torture of those many years is compelling.
Let them not be Chaplinesque. Let them say

she never knew what hit her. Let it be like
the one James Dean got, only much later.

Let me not surrender to humiliations.
Let me end when my mind, still sharp,

is somewhere else--dreaming of perfectly
grilled lamb, the rosemary perfume so strong,

it could be sealed in my pillow, of hot sex,
and let that be not so long gone

that it burns like a bad joke. In the valley
of the shadow of death, I'd still like

my red lipstick please. Let my breasts not reach
my waist. Let there be very little

scar tissue on me at the time and
let there be a weeping willow, under it

a significantly younger man,
my own little honey cake, who is weeping,

too--thought I don't wish that on him for long,
He'll have a life to live.

...

Is a good life possible?  Today's book of poetry thinks so and so does Susana H. Case, she just makes it clear it won't come easy or without bruising.  It might leave a scar.  Just like these poems.

Susana H. Case

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susana H. Case is a Professor and Program Coordinator at the New York Institute of Technology. Her photos have appeared in Blue Hour Magazine, pacificREVIEW, and San Pedro River Review, among others. Author of several chapbooks, her Slapering Hol Press chapbook, The Scottish Café, was published in a dual-language version, Kawiarnia Szkocka, by Poland’s Opole University Press. Her previous books of poetry are: Salem In Séance (WordTech Editions), Elvis Presley’s Hips & Mick Jagger’s Lips (Anaphora Literary Press), and Earth and Below(Anaphora Literary Press). Please visit her online at: http://iris.nyit.edu/~shcase/.

BLURBS
The poems in 4 Rms w Vu, like most of Susana H. Case’s work, demand full participation—no watching here—that we live in their apartments, wear their clothes, down to the “denier nylon.” At the end we’re a little shaken, but a lot wiser. Susana is a daring poet, not so much for the sake of issuing challenges, but more to the cause of poetry itself; she defies one to bring the whole body and soul, and deny no part of this experience called living.
     – Mervyn Taylor, author of The Waving Gallery
4 Rms w Vu is a poetic open house in which Susana H. Case guides us through the rooms of the heart. In poems addressed to husbands, lovers and parents, Case shows how the past, the curious details of daily life and wonderings about the future all weave together endlessly, how nothing is ever really lost—not a loved one, not a hurt—if you can remember. In her moving new collection, we see how this poet’s art is an act of holding on in language that is sure-footed.
     – Matthew Thorburn, author of This Time Tomorrow

Susana H. Case’s 4 Rms w Vu superimposes an intricate map of a lover’s mind on the floorplan of a New York City apartment in poems that never shrink from the “weep and stink
of everyday brutality.” Moving from room to room and year to year, 4 Rms w Vu passes through meditations on life with dogs, the metaphysics of lipstick, and the peculiarly American primal scene of the isolating, moving, colliding car, in square footage inhabited by a woman with the brio to ask, as final prayer — “Let me blow a lot of fuses.” 
     -B. K. Fischer, author of St. Rage’s Vault

In these poems, Susana H. Case captures a vision of New York that can no longer be seen but in memory. Filled with characters frenzied by love, desire & hope, 4 Rm w Vu reminds us not only where we’re from but also who we are. 
     -Gerry LaFemina, author of

Susana H. Case
reading her poem "Copiapo" from 
the poetry anthology "Rabbit Ears"
video:  Rabbit Ears TV


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