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daniell's review against another edition
5.0
Fifty-four poems, a flitting free verse. Lovely, Raspberry is Aaron Belz’ second book of poems, the first being a set called The Bird Hoverer. I have not read the first book, but after reading LR I want to, which says something positive about what I’ve read. Provided I’m not delusional. Belz’ accessibility is part of this assertion. It’s easy to read about Alberto V05, Bubba Sparxxx, to the more-subtle, like,
three things
1.
Nothing is as funny
as a summer day
but three things
are more temperate.
One. A glass
of tap water.
Two. Your mood
after we watch
“Friends.”
And three.
2.
Three things
keep me from
emailing you.
I count bad
breath and
receding hairline
as one thing,
by the way.
3.
In all the universe
there are only three things.
This is the secret
of the universe,
or as the French call it,
le secret de’lunivers.
Meaningful absurdity characterizes many of these poems. I figure that if it makes me smile while making a few word jokes and making be rethink some aspect of life then it’s a success. If it does all this I should be happy. Belz’ utility in doing so much in so few words is another reason why I enjoyed this. He’s efficient in getting to a specific point and making it worth re-reading. The experience of seeing how he reaches the end of these poems is what counts, not necessarily the punch line, though he has punch line poems, such as,
my best wand
Of all the magic wands
I’ve bought over the years,
only the one
with the sharp tip
really works—you point it
into someone and say
ABRACADABRA
and the person magically
becomes wounded.
The love-hat relationship, mr fibitz, critique, what, you bore me, slam dunque, and asking al gore about the muse are all examples of the singularity of his work. He’s birthed something that doesn’t remind me of anything, only itself. I love this. It’s like learning that narwhals are real, or discovering a new critter. Perhaps that critter too eats vittles.
And then when you think he’s just a nut that writes about silly things only he’ll go and do something like this:
signal versus noise
For Norbert Wiener
a signal was something
that ought to be filtered
from noise, but for God,
at least in this life,
the signals merge with
the noise, and although
maybe that’s just God’s
way, it’s possible God
is more like Gwen Stefani
in that he expects us
to hear, over the din
of the hip hop club
of this world, him shouting
“Holla back, girl!”
and wants us to holla
back somehow, through
prayer, or maybe just
lives of self-sacrifice.
where the elements of absurdity and stark truth are combined in such a way that neither are the worse for it. It’s not fun to talk about literature abstractly like this, but that’s what he’s doing: the cool part is to read exactly how he does it. I’m not sure criticism adds a whole lot to this work, and in this case I really enjoy that fact, that this lark does not need to analyzed, but taken.
three things
1.
Nothing is as funny
as a summer day
but three things
are more temperate.
One. A glass
of tap water.
Two. Your mood
after we watch
“Friends.”
And three.
2.
Three things
keep me from
emailing you.
I count bad
breath and
receding hairline
as one thing,
by the way.
3.
In all the universe
there are only three things.
This is the secret
of the universe,
or as the French call it,
le secret de’lunivers.
Meaningful absurdity characterizes many of these poems. I figure that if it makes me smile while making a few word jokes and making be rethink some aspect of life then it’s a success. If it does all this I should be happy. Belz’ utility in doing so much in so few words is another reason why I enjoyed this. He’s efficient in getting to a specific point and making it worth re-reading. The experience of seeing how he reaches the end of these poems is what counts, not necessarily the punch line, though he has punch line poems, such as,
my best wand
Of all the magic wands
I’ve bought over the years,
only the one
with the sharp tip
really works—you point it
into someone and say
ABRACADABRA
and the person magically
becomes wounded.
The love-hat relationship, mr fibitz, critique, what, you bore me, slam dunque, and asking al gore about the muse are all examples of the singularity of his work. He’s birthed something that doesn’t remind me of anything, only itself. I love this. It’s like learning that narwhals are real, or discovering a new critter. Perhaps that critter too eats vittles.
And then when you think he’s just a nut that writes about silly things only he’ll go and do something like this:
signal versus noise
For Norbert Wiener
a signal was something
that ought to be filtered
from noise, but for God,
at least in this life,
the signals merge with
the noise, and although
maybe that’s just God’s
way, it’s possible God
is more like Gwen Stefani
in that he expects us
to hear, over the din
of the hip hop club
of this world, him shouting
“Holla back, girl!”
and wants us to holla
back somehow, through
prayer, or maybe just
lives of self-sacrifice.
where the elements of absurdity and stark truth are combined in such a way that neither are the worse for it. It’s not fun to talk about literature abstractly like this, but that’s what he’s doing: the cool part is to read exactly how he does it. I’m not sure criticism adds a whole lot to this work, and in this case I really enjoy that fact, that this lark does not need to analyzed, but taken.
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