Reviews with content warning for Dementia - The Carrying: Poems

This is the first book of poetry I've picked up since those Shel Silverstein books in elementary school. There's no particular reason why I chose this one from the shelf at my library, other than the colors on the spine caught my eye. I went into this with no expectations, nor did I know if there was going to be a theme.

This felt like reading a short story. Each poem felt like it contributed to an overall narrative of the author's life. You could see how the individual changed their way of thinking, and the conclusions they came to.

Because of this, the poems themselves varied quite a bit in content, the type of language used, and how lyrical they sounded. For example, we start with this poem, which is also my favorite:

When Eve walked among
the animals and named them-
nightingale, red-shouldered hawk,
fiddler crab, fallow deer-
I wonder if she ever wanted
them to speak back, looked into
their wide wonderful eyes and
whispered, Name me, name me.

About halfway through the book we then end up with this gem that gives some of the craziest imagery I've ever come across. (This is just the first part of the poem as it's a longer one)

The night after, I dream I chop
all the penises off, the ones that
keep coming through the walls.

These are the highlights of the book for me, so since they are few and far inbetween I found overall this just felt like an average read for me. The styles of the poems were quite varied, and there were definitely ones I liked better than others. I also caught myself a few times just reading the words and not absorbing them. It's why I went through this book slowly, as I wanted to absorb the meaning, and not get overwhelemed.

I feel like poetry is such a personal medium, and the meaning can change based on who's reading it. It's difficult to put a rating on that, and I'm intrigued to see how I feel as I read more poetry.

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peytonktracy's review against another edition

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challenging emotional reflective sad slow-paced

5.0

This, I believe, is my first book of poetry in nearly a decade, and it was a hell of a return to this genre. Limón’s poems are raw, vulnerable, and exquisite, capturing the beauty and the ugly in the every day and the full depth of emotion that can be within each moment. Many are heartbreaking, all in different ways for a myriad of reasons, but each one felt like a privilege to read. Just wow. I’ll be digesting this one for awhile.

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