Saturday, January 22, 2011

Real Books Smell Like Stuff

So I just read White Collar Worker: I am a destiny, an e-chap by Dan Magers, and H_NGM_N and I love it.  I can't do more than try to say why.  The language feels like an irregular pulse developed from too many cigarettes and downers.  I don't get surprised more than once when I hear something like:  "Now My Band Will Fuck You" next to "Meaning contains a glancing similarity/to what is happening to me."  That's just what happens when you smoke a lot of cigarettes do a lot of downers:  I got used to missing heart beats in the language and I really really enjoyed it.  The speaker of the poems is a lovable asshole, a guy you would beat the shit out of if he was less funny and less generous with his booze.  The form uses the so-cool non-sequitur, reminiscent of Matthew Rohrer's A Plate of Chicken, though Magers' lines accrete into something bigger and more or less profound (though I don't know which).

When I finished I was sad and wanted to write poems.  I felt like the speaker died and I had to write his eulogy.  Two things that make a book good.  I love the design H_NGM_N put into this little e-chap, but I want to see a real, physical, full length book that smells like shit when it gets wet.  If I had a gun and a few thousand bucks I'd make Dan Magers write more poems and let me print them all.

(Adam Robinson also reviews here)

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