Scan barcode
bucketoffish's review
2.0
The poems in this collection were okay but mostly unmemorable. Other years have been better.
dkai's review
3.0
Nice collection to start me on my journey to appreciating poetry. The first half had more that spoke to me, but I like the range.
lifeinpoetry's review against another edition
4.0
I'm only referring to the poetry. Lehman's intro was a mess.
gvenezia's review
4.0
I read the 2017 installation a few years ago and recently got the 2019 installation because I realized I got a lot out of the collection. This type of collection is a safer way to engage with poetry than author-specific collections, many of which have been disappointing compared to the first few poems I encountered from the authors.
Usually I appreciate the forewords in these "Best of..." type collections, but I found this year’s to be underwhelming: one a limp screed against political correctness (as none of the works really push the boundaries of political correctness), the other a memoiristic reflection on high school and influential poets.
While there are plenty of poems here that don't affect me much, several enthralled me in a way I haven’t felt in years. Here are some favorite quotes to give the tenor of what I liked:
Sumita Chakraborty, "Essay on Joy"
Some years ago, dozens of grackles fell dead from the sky in Boston, the cause unknown. And so I think: I detest grackles. I rejoice.
If asked, I would have explained the cause: somewhere in a level of atmosphere for which humans hold no keys lived a green-shining carrion crow. As her name indicates, she ate dead bodies. But nothing died there, ever; and so, she was hungry. She was kept company by this lack.
…
She ate some, and so she finally grew in size, and hated that, too. She who imagines what she hates is destroyed will rejoice. She opened a hole in the bottom of the atmosphere. Her kills fell.
Victoria Chang, “Obits”
Friendships—died June 24, 2009, once beloved but not consistently beloved. The mirror won the battle. I am now imprisoned in the mirror. All my selves spread out like a deck of cards.
…
An image is a kind of distance. An image of me sits down. Depression is a glove over the heart. Depression is an image of a glove over the image of a heart.
Leonard Cohen, “Drank a Lot”
i drank a lot. i lost my job.
i lived like nothing mattered.
then you stopped, and came across
my little bridge of fallen answers.
…
your remedies beneath my hand
your fingers in my hair
the kisses on our lips began
that ended everywhere.
Joanne Dominique Dwyer, “Decline in the Adoration of Jack-in-the-Pulpits”
Cell phones are like bird coffins in our hands
No rain or sun on our skin, only the hum and haloes of screens swaddling us
Juan Felipe Herrera, “Roll Under the Waves”
the knife-shaped rivers and the face of my mother Luz and
water running next to the animals still thrashing choking
their low burnt violin muffled screams in rings
of roses across the mountains
Bob Holman, "All Praise Cecil Taylor”
Them laugh them cry them fingers flip wise
Troll the riverbed dead not dead not dead
Once after the concert you told me it was not after the concert
This is the concert is just what you said
Garret Hongo, "The Bathers, Cassis"
[I’m] gazing at the bathers as they take turns diving off the limestone promontory below and to my left,
lazily frog-kicking through the cerulean waters of Port-de-Cassis.
Their bodies are pale as salamanders as they scoot through the zaffre and viridian.
Li-Young Lee, “The Undressing”
Bodies have circled bodies
from the beginning, she says,
but the voices of lovers
are Creation’s most recent flowers,
mere buds of fire nodding on their stalks.
Rebecca Lindenberg “A Brief History of the Future Apocaplypse”
And I was not afraid, but should have been
the first time love fell in me like snow.
How could i know it would inter us
both, so much volcanic ash—
how could I not? The world must end and I think it will keep ending
Usually I appreciate the forewords in these "Best of..." type collections, but I found this year’s to be underwhelming: one a limp screed against political correctness (as none of the works really push the boundaries of political correctness), the other a memoiristic reflection on high school and influential poets.
While there are plenty of poems here that don't affect me much, several enthralled me in a way I haven’t felt in years. Here are some favorite quotes to give the tenor of what I liked:
Sumita Chakraborty, "Essay on Joy"
Some years ago, dozens of grackles fell dead from the sky in Boston, the cause unknown. And so I think: I detest grackles. I rejoice.
If asked, I would have explained the cause: somewhere in a level of atmosphere for which humans hold no keys lived a green-shining carrion crow. As her name indicates, she ate dead bodies. But nothing died there, ever; and so, she was hungry. She was kept company by this lack.
…
She ate some, and so she finally grew in size, and hated that, too. She who imagines what she hates is destroyed will rejoice. She opened a hole in the bottom of the atmosphere. Her kills fell.
Victoria Chang, “Obits”
Friendships—died June 24, 2009, once beloved but not consistently beloved. The mirror won the battle. I am now imprisoned in the mirror. All my selves spread out like a deck of cards.
…
An image is a kind of distance. An image of me sits down. Depression is a glove over the heart. Depression is an image of a glove over the image of a heart.
Leonard Cohen, “Drank a Lot”
i drank a lot. i lost my job.
i lived like nothing mattered.
then you stopped, and came across
my little bridge of fallen answers.
…
your remedies beneath my hand
your fingers in my hair
the kisses on our lips began
that ended everywhere.
Joanne Dominique Dwyer, “Decline in the Adoration of Jack-in-the-Pulpits”
Cell phones are like bird coffins in our hands
No rain or sun on our skin, only the hum and haloes of screens swaddling us
Juan Felipe Herrera, “Roll Under the Waves”
the knife-shaped rivers and the face of my mother Luz and
water running next to the animals still thrashing choking
their low burnt violin muffled screams in rings
of roses across the mountains
Bob Holman, "All Praise Cecil Taylor”
Them laugh them cry them fingers flip wise
Troll the riverbed dead not dead not dead
Once after the concert you told me it was not after the concert
This is the concert is just what you said
Garret Hongo, "The Bathers, Cassis"
[I’m] gazing at the bathers as they take turns diving off the limestone promontory below and to my left,
lazily frog-kicking through the cerulean waters of Port-de-Cassis.
Their bodies are pale as salamanders as they scoot through the zaffre and viridian.
Li-Young Lee, “The Undressing”
Bodies have circled bodies
from the beginning, she says,
but the voices of lovers
are Creation’s most recent flowers,
mere buds of fire nodding on their stalks.
Rebecca Lindenberg “A Brief History of the Future Apocaplypse”
And I was not afraid, but should have been
the first time love fell in me like snow.
How could i know it would inter us
both, so much volcanic ash—
how could I not? The world must end and I think it will keep ending
hoatzin's review
Wild to me that I’ve read enough poetry in the last 2 years that I actually recognized some of the poets in this collection. Some gems in here but skimmed most of them
Faves from new-to-me poets: A Brief History Of A Future Apocalypse (Rebecca Lindenberg; “A heart sorrow-whipped and cowering will still nose its rib cage to be petted.”), Hive (Kevin Young), Four Marys (Paisley Rekdal), Central Park (Catherine Barnett), Skin-Light (Natalie Diaz), Afternoons at the Lake (Fleda Brown), Dark and Lonely After Take-Off (A Future) (Yona Harvey)
Faves from known poets: from “Last Will and Testament” (Ilya Kaminsky), I Invite My Parents To A Dinner Party (Chen Chen)
Faves from new-to-me poets: A Brief History Of A Future Apocalypse (Rebecca Lindenberg; “A heart sorrow-whipped and cowering will still nose its rib cage to be petted.”), Hive (Kevin Young), Four Marys (Paisley Rekdal), Central Park (Catherine Barnett), Skin-Light (Natalie Diaz), Afternoons at the Lake (Fleda Brown), Dark and Lonely After Take-Off (A Future) (Yona Harvey)
Faves from known poets: from “Last Will and Testament” (Ilya Kaminsky), I Invite My Parents To A Dinner Party (Chen Chen)