Showing posts with label madonna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madonna. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Ordinary Monsters — Justin Bond (Mongrel Empire Press)

Today's book of poetry:
Ordinary Monsters.  Justin Bond.  Mongrel Empire Press.  Norman, Oklahoma.  2017.
FrontCover

"And as you lie in bed
like an effigy of yourself
it is the ordinary that comes to save you."
                                                                                                         Linda Pastan
                                                                                                         The Ordinary

Justin Bond's Ordinary Monsters blooms open like some splendid bruise you have to touch just to see how much it is going to hurt.  Then you need to reassure yourself, was that pain or pleasure, and you touch the bruise once more.

Perhaps comparing poetry to a bruise is unfair and misleading but Bond can stand the heat.  These poems are plain beautiful, and wise, and witty.

Today's book of poetry can be clueless, and clueless we were, not realizing that Justin Bond was gay.  This man's lovely love poems transcend gender.  Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder, we take that as a given.  Bond takes up some of that territory between love and lust, he uses these tight poems to bridge that gap.

The Right Way to Want Me

The
way
Madonna
wants
to 
devour
Lady Gaga
probably
head
first
strand
by
strand
of 
bleached
blonde
ambition
the 
super
ego
subsuming
the
id
unless
you
would 
consider
that
reductive

...

Justin Bond just comes off so damned smart with his big heart and compassionate brain.  Ordinary Monsters made Today's book of poetry laugh, cry and even momentarily, uncomfortably horny.  That particular poem is one my lovely wife of twenty-five years will probably want to read.  (Hello Sweetie)

The clumsy point Today's book of poetry is trying to make is that these poems are universal.  By being honest with himself Bond unveils some of the deep truths we are all tethered to regardless of our preferences in plumbing.

There is a real hopeful stance to Justin Bond's poetry.  Ordinary Monsters is dense with optimism in the face of overwhelming odds, and the reader will follow Bond anywhere he cares to go.  After the first couple of poems of Ordinary Monsters there was no doubt about Today's book of poetry being a Justin Bond fan.                                                                                        

The Wolf on His Deathbed, Remorseless

Let it not be forgotten
that I was no more or less
than the sum of my instincts.

Would you blame me for hunger?
A girl moved like flame through the forest.
Even now she smolders the brush of those dead years.

Blood is untamable.
She was weak, I was not,
and this world will not let you choose.

...

And after the "wolf" poem, Today's book of poetry knew we were in deep.  Mr. Bond can burn with the best.

Last evening, Today's book of poetry was on the front porch with the fore mentioned K, we were talking about WisÅ‚awa Szymborska, because it was her birthday.  Later today I will pull out some Szymborska from the stacks and add them to the reading pile on K's side of the bed.  K has a very low tolerance for bad, so-so and mediocre poetry.  I only dare leave her "the best of the best of the best" as Rip Torn would have said if Men In Black were about poetry.  I won't hesitate to add Bond to K's reading pile either.

Ordinary Monsters

Once when I was a child
walking alone to my grandma's house
I saw something scary in the woods.
I still remember the snap of the twig
like a crunching of bone
that startled me silent mid-song,
the dun-colored fur covering the leg
that stepped out from behind the trunk
of an old pecan tree,
foreign and sapling-thick.
How I ran, clumsily and blindly, fearing
the thing all children secretly fear most:
the fairytale come to life.

We grow up and the world grows
smaller. The monsters it breeds
have become a more ordinary variety,
hairy-legged and hungry,
some wearing the faces of people
I tell myself I might want to love.
But even as I feel myself opening
to receive them, I shut my eyes tight
as two fists, I can't bear to look back
at the forest behind me.

...

Ordinary Monsters made for an excellent morning read here at Today's book of poetry.  The one complication was that as we don't have air conditioning in the Today's book of poetry offices, we were forced into the basement to get out today's blog/review.  There's a big fan on the box where I've got my computer.  My computer itself sits on it's own "cooling fan" base.  But sometimes things burn up - it was 35 C in Ottawa yesterday, with the humidex it was 110 F, hotter than Baghdad.

It's going to remain very hot all week so I've given orders to cover up the windows and doors.  But it is too late; our first floor is blistering hot, the second floor has turned to liquid magma, last time I checked it was 374 C.

The staff reading itself was great, Bond speaks with such a lovely, almost gallant voice and his poems make the reader sound intelligent.  Our crew like that.

Justin Bond reminded Today's book of poetry of the wide variety of voices needed to make up a choir, and they are out there in the poetry ether, yawping Whitmanesque, brilliant voices.

Gay poet, gay poetry.  Today's book of poetry is absolutely certain this poetry transcends my ability/desire to label it.  If you are a regular Today's book of poetry reader you will probably be at the point where you just let the poems speak for themselves.  That would always be excellent advice, but dear reader, please know, please trust me, when I say that we have a poetry loving staff working hard to bring you the very best poetry we can find - regardless of gender or choice of public restroom.

Justin Bond's poems are simply beautiful beasts you'll recognize as they work their way through to your poetry heart.



Justin Bond

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Justin Bond was born, raised and educated in Oklahoma. He is the author of the chapbook Going Native (Red Bird 2014). His work has been included as part of The Pulitzer Remix (a National Poetry Month initiative), performed in Emotive Fruition’s 2016 Pride performance, and nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He lives and works in New York City.

BLURBS
"All of the new thinking is about loss," Robert Hass once wrote. "In that, it resembles all of the old thinking." Gay poet Justin Bond's gorgeous debut collection pays beautiful, painful homage to this human tradition. These pages steep the reader in passion and grief, stark and gleaming. They nourish us with lust, lyricism and the will to go on, which is, as Bond says, "part of what elevates us above a clumsy gallop of meat and bone.”
—Ruth L. Schwartz, winner of the National Poetry Series prize,
Autumn House Press Poetry Prize, Anhinga Prize for Poetry, AWP Award Series prize.

"The story of us,” writes Justin Bond, “is the story of America.” The smart, insightful, and revelatory poems of Ordinary Monsters are themselves stories of us (both reader and writer) but also of this vast and bizarre country.
And like our country, Bond’s poems are diverse, ambitious, and explosive.
Walt Whitman would love their big, expansive, democratic heart. You will too.
—Dean Rader, winner of the 2010 T. S. Eliot Poetry Prize,
2010 Writer's League of Texas Poetry Prize, and the George H. Bogin Award from the Poetry Society of America

mongrelempire.org

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DISCLAIMERS

Poems cited here are assumed to be under copyright by the poet and/or publisher.  They are shown here for publicity and review purposes.  For any other kind of re-use of these poems, please contact the listed publishers for permission.
We here at TBOP are technically deficient and rely on our bashful Milo to fix everything.  We received notice from Google that we were using "cookies"
and that for our readers in Europe there had to be notification of the use of those "cookies.  Please be aware that TBOP may employ the use of some "cookies" (whatever they are) and you should take that into consideration

Friday, April 27, 2018

How Do I Look? - Sennah Yee (Metatron Press)

Today's book of poetry:
How Do I Look?  Sennah Yee.  Metatron Press.  Montreal, Quebec.  2017.

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A poet named after Aryton Senna.  For Today's book of poetry that fact alone almost takes our breath away.  Not surprisingly Sennah Yee has an F1 driver's simplicity in mastering that shortest distance between two points mantra.  These poems come across as terse and teasing darts from a love-sick Cupid.

How Do I Look? is a hipster's handbook and travel guide.  How Do I Look? is a collection of movie reviews where Siskel and Ebert are both hash-smoking robots with inexplicable savior faire.

Texas Forever

In Austin, someone who looks exactly like the Madonna-
pap-smear girl from Slacker serves me pistachio ice cream
with an extra scoop "just cuz." I try slowing down my
speech to a drawl, my power-walk to a stroll. We rent a
car and drive out of the city. I can't eat my extra "just
cuz" scoop fast enough against the sun. It seeps down the
waffle cone, my hand, onto my thigh. I lick my fingers and
look out the car window. The billboards tell me that God
and Jesus love me lots out here, but I'd never guess from
everyone's glares.

...

The poems in How Do I Look? are brief prose poems where Sennah Yee goes into the corners hard and comes out smoking.  Today's book of poetry was immediately taken aback by how Yee both takes the reader the lapels and says "HEY, you need to look at this!", and at the same time Yee's gentle nonchalance suggests she has already moved on.

Today's book of poetry has all the time in the world for strong women's voices and Sennah Yee is aces.  Yee has that "cool" veneer that often resembles a big emotional barrier for access, the "cool" that doesn't allow entry to the heart, but Yee is smarter than that.  She never lets her cool get in the way of making her point.

How Do I Look? is a bold handshake and rips right through the reader's first line of defence with Yee's ambidextrous heroine cutting through the red tape of the unsaid and getting right to the meat and potatoes.

Real Love

After we fight you make up by cooking me sunny-side-up
quail eggs on tiny slices of rock-hard baguette. The yolk
dribbles out of my mouth and down my chin. I feel a shard
of shell nick the lining of my throat.  Still, I swallow.

...

Before our morning read Today's book of poetry had to give a very short talk to our minions about who Aryton Senna was.  The source of Yee's name (although we are entirely prepared for the fact that the chameleon in Yee might just be pulling our leg) was a great hero.  He was not only the best racing driver who ever lived, he was a generous humanitarian beloved by the poor of Brazil.  When he died there were three days of national mourning in Brazil.  His talent was breathtaking.  Look him up even though it has nothing to do with poetry.

Sennah Yee still doesn't drive.  But she sure can burn.  Our morning read was a crackerjack, these short poems rolling off of our reader's tongues like shining and pointed arrows headed straight for the bull's eye.

Yee can be a tough and bitter heartache struggling with the morning and a tender lover with sweet intent and can fit both performances on to the head of a pin.

Myspace.com

High angles would do nothing for the gap between my
breasts. I would use the flash to wash my features out. I
would open my eyes far and wide. Think doe-eyed. Think
Audry, Think Zooey. Think mine are going to fall out of
their sockets. When Bambi's mom got shot, my sister made
my mom stop the VCR and put on Mulan instead. "Don't 
look back. Keep running. Keep running."

...

Today's book of poetry was immediately poetry-smitten by the witty Sennah Yee.  We'd let her drive any time.

Image result for sennah lee poet photo

Senna Yee

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sennah Yee.  b. 1992, Toronto.  Sennah writes poetry, writes about films, and writes poetry about films.   Her debut book of poetry/non-fiction HOW DO I LOOK? is at Metatron Press.

She is a PhD student in Cinema & Media Studies at York University, focusing her research on gender dynamics in female robots in Japan and the US. Her MA thesis, Gendered Robot Design in Mainstream Media & Technology, was awarded a SSHRC Grant.

She is the Arts Editor at Shameless, a magazine for young women and trans youth. She is Co-Editor and Contributor to The Fuck of the Century, a web-based pop culture journal.

She is the Producer and Production Designer of the feature film Withdrawn, which premiered at Slamdance Film Festival in 2017.

Though named after a Formula 1 driver, she has yet to get behind the wheel. She tweets @sennahaha.

BLURB
"In Yee's poetry, whole worlds, multiple worlds, can live in just a few sentences and countless people and histories can exist within one person's body. You can live a while life in just one of Yee's paragraphs.
     — Mitski


Sennah Yee
Book trailer for:  How Do I Look?
Video:  Hera Hera Creative


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DISCLAIMERS

Poems cited here are assumed to be under copyright by the poet and/or publisher.  They are shown here for publicity and review purposes.  For any other kind of re-use of these poems, please contact the listed publishers for permission.
We here at TBOP are technically deficient and rely on our bashful Milo to fix everything.  We received notice from Google that we were using "cookies"
and that for our readers in Europe there had to be notification of the use of those "cookies.  Please be aware that TBOP may employ the use of some "cookies" (whatever they are) and you should take that into consideration