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3.62 AVERAGE
3.62 AVERAGE
Michael Dickman lures me in with beautiful imagery, then pushes me away with disturbing imagery. I feel like I had an on-again off-again love affair the whole time I read this. There's a raw quality about these poems that I admire...he doesn't seem to write highfalutin just for the sake of it.
The book makes me feel like I can write. Not because "If this stuff is poetry, mine can be too." More in the way good art inspires. I think that means Dickman is a very good artist indeed.
The book makes me feel like I can write. Not because "If this stuff is poetry, mine can be too." More in the way good art inspires. I think that means Dickman is a very good artist indeed.
There are whole passages that make me uncomfortable. Itch even. Reading was visceral. Impressed.
A book of closely observed lyrics about family-- if there was a larger resonance to the narratives that span this book and the emotional dynamics at work here, I didn't see it. I'm not saying that's a terrible thing, but this did feel like a fairly hermetically sealed world to me.
The form of the poems was interesting-- this wasn't a classic case of "lots of whitespace" though there are lots of one line stanzas here, breaking up sentences, etc. Other than the stanza breaks, in fact, the poems are pretty regular in their layout. I tried to read the poems as if there was some reason for their fracturing, especially when there were two line stanzas in the middle of poem of otherwise one line stanzas, but I never got very far with that. I do think that it brings in a level of intensity to what is being described, but then, that intensity was being summoned forth so often, it became kind of the regular mode of reading and lost its distinctiveness....
The form of the poems was interesting-- this wasn't a classic case of "lots of whitespace" though there are lots of one line stanzas here, breaking up sentences, etc. Other than the stanza breaks, in fact, the poems are pretty regular in their layout. I tried to read the poems as if there was some reason for their fracturing, especially when there were two line stanzas in the middle of poem of otherwise one line stanzas, but I never got very far with that. I do think that it brings in a level of intensity to what is being described, but then, that intensity was being summoned forth so often, it became kind of the regular mode of reading and lost its distinctiveness....
challenging
dark
fast-paced
Verses I liked: pg. 9 "I wanted to be made out of nothing but your voice"
pg. 68 "Nothing really happens to you when you're dreaming
Everyone alive is alive
everyone dead is
again"
pg. 70 "This is the last dream I ever want to have"
pg. 71- just the alliteration of "toxic tuxedos"
pg. 77 "I've always wanted my body
to work harder
at being alive
The light you see in veins"
pg. 68 "Nothing really happens to you when you're dreaming
Everyone alive is alive
everyone dead is
again"
pg. 70 "This is the last dream I ever want to have"
pg. 71- just the alliteration of "toxic tuxedos"
pg. 77 "I've always wanted my body
to work harder
at being alive
The light you see in veins"
Michael Dickman‘s Flies, published in 2011 and a possible candidate for the Indie Lit Awards if it is nominated in September, won the Academy of American Poets James Laughlin Award, which is the only award for a second book of poetry. The collection is a dark look at family, but also takes a stark look at death and loss. However, there are lighter moments in the book, like in “Emily Dickinson to the Rescue” (page 21) that was highlighted in the Virtual Poetry Circle (http://savvyverseandwit.com/2011/07/105th-virtual-poetry-circle.html).
Beneath the whimsical wordplay and imagery of playgrounds and imaginary friends, there is a deep sense of unrest and yet acceptance of how things have turned out, though the narrator has many regrets. In “Imaginary Playground” (page 27), the narrator is playing alone with his imaginary friends, but as the scene fills in, it is clear that where there once were trees and places to play, there is concrete and change. The narrator is nostalgic for those moments, even if they were solitary moments with imaginary friends — wishing there was a way to return to the innocence of childhood and the creativity that period imbued. “The swing sets/aren’t really/there// . . . On the blacktop/we lie down in each other’s arms/and outline our bodies/in chalk// . . . There are no hiding places anymore//” (page 27-9)
Read the full review beginning Aug. 4: http://savvyverseandwit.com/2011/08/flies-by-michael-dickman.html
Beneath the whimsical wordplay and imagery of playgrounds and imaginary friends, there is a deep sense of unrest and yet acceptance of how things have turned out, though the narrator has many regrets. In “Imaginary Playground” (page 27), the narrator is playing alone with his imaginary friends, but as the scene fills in, it is clear that where there once were trees and places to play, there is concrete and change. The narrator is nostalgic for those moments, even if they were solitary moments with imaginary friends — wishing there was a way to return to the innocence of childhood and the creativity that period imbued. “The swing sets/aren’t really/there// . . . On the blacktop/we lie down in each other’s arms/and outline our bodies/in chalk// . . . There are no hiding places anymore//” (page 27-9)
Read the full review beginning Aug. 4: http://savvyverseandwit.com/2011/08/flies-by-michael-dickman.html