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Review: Boy

You met him first in the beginning, when the pain was fresh and unbearable, journeyed through the metaphorical rabbit hole, through diverging tales and twisting paths, and here it continues. This story is both a continuation and a look back, because time isn't linear, not truly, and regardless, it's impossible not to look back on the things that shaped us into who we are.

Released last year, Boy is the third collection, independently released by Jimmy Broccoli. Anyone who has followed along through my reviews is aware I've read all of Jimmy's work, and will in fact, read anything this man releases because it is so brilliantly written, Jimmy is in fact one of my favorite poets and I will gladly buy more of his work when given the chance.

Boy is in many ways, as I said, a continuation, it continues to touch on the topics of loss and addiction, but not in the same way. The loss, while painful and very much present, isn't quite as all-encompassing as it felt in his previous collections. While he still struggles with addiction, it's not as prominent, not as devastatingly dire feeling.

This collection also introduces a different narrative, throwing in a new style of story telling, different from the short stories or prose of previous collections, these are as much poems as they are stories, even when at times they feel fantastical and entirely fictitious (in a good way).

Separated into four parts; Naomi Judd, Keith Flint, Ian Curtis and Kurt Cobain, it contains an impressive amount of work in a short amount of pages, 121 in all. Several pieces were included in his best of collection Failure, as such I'll keep the remarks only on the pieces that were either not included, or not previously mentioned in that review.

There's three poems in particular that stood out beyond the others, Gehenna is one of those poems that start out so devastatingly sad, only to do a hard rewind to the beginning, to the beauty. It takes you through, step by step, up to the resulting aftermath of the loss. Given the relative shortness of the poem, I was very much impressed with how swiftly Jimmy evoked a stream of differing emotions in such few pages.

The second, 1013 - 5150 (These Aren't Random Numbers). If you read his best of but have yet to read Boy, you will now know the collection it originated in and likely know why I chose this as one of the stand outs. It is a very difficult poem to read and frankly, sometimes the difficult poems are the best poems. The ones you wish you didn't relate to, but you do. I won't dive deeply into what this one was about because I really think it needs to be read, it is fucking phenomenal and also gut wrenching. But goddamn it's powerful.

The third is actually the ending poem for the book itself, Lord in Praise of You - Don't Let Them Forget Me. It is entirely possible that what I took from this piece may not be the same someone else does, and in fact the reason I chose this as the final poem that stood out above all others, was the opening two lines. Simple, but powerful and stuck with me. When I first read it, I paused, reread the lines, and sat with it for a minute before continuing on. This is not something I normally do, I will normally finish the poem and think on it once I've obtained all the information offered. But, the lines struck me so strongly that I did just that. I absorbed them before reading the rest of the piece. I'll add, it is, as a whole, very good.

Other poems that were incredible as well, included Farewell to the Fairground, The Actor, Some Folks Call Them Cinderblocks - I Call Them Breeze, His Kindness Flowed Like Water - His Love Flowed Like Wine, The False Beauty of Being Numb and You Might Not Like What You See.

Each piece is brilliant and powerful in its own way, there in fact isn't a single piece that I wouldn't suggest one read if given the chance, you may find (And I'm sure, that you will, as all our experiences are different) pieces that resonate with you in a more intense way than they did with me. What I can say is the collection as a whole is beautifully done and I applaud Jimmy as he continues to grow as a poet and writer.

I will add, that if you ever get the chance to see him read live, do it! I was fortunate enough to be one of the many performers at The Last Insomniacathon alongside Jimmy Broccoli, and his reading was amazing. After hearing him read, I went back and reread some of his pieces and could hear it even clearer, in fact it made me better appreciate his writing after noticing the way he read it. Poetry is meant to be read, yes, but it's also meant to be heard. If ever given the opportunity, go, listen. You will be so very glad you did!

You can read more posts on reviews, featured poets, personal poetry and more at waldenspoetry.com

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Another poem I wrote

Morning love songs

Wake up to the birds love song

Singing good morning to each other

And it’s almost the most beautiful thing

My ears could hear

But it isn’t quite as sweet

As the sound of your good morning

And the delicate feel

Of your kiss on my cheek

As you put your arms around me

And say,

Baby, I love you.

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Here is a poem from my debut chapbook through Alien Buddha Press, which can be found on Amazon.

The Things We Don’t Talk About https://a.co/d/7VOn1nv

Brighter

I’m convinced you’re the reason the sun rises

The day doesn’t begin or end without you near

Looking into those eyes for the first time

You’ve made everything such a new kind of beautiful

I can’t wait to show you the world,

And experience it through your innocent eyes

I live for the days I’ll spend with you

My little darling,

You make the world so much brighter.

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Here’s a poem I wrote today.

Song Of Spring

I stretch my arms out

Toward the sky

And feel the wind

Run along my fingers

Like it’s teasing me

With its whispered songs

That if I could just find a way

To listen closely enough

I might hear

And I wonder,

Would it tell me the secrets

Of the earth,

The song of the trees

The lullaby in the falling leaves

The beauty, in the budding flowers

Or would it be

Stories from the oceans

I’ll never see

Carrying bits of salt water

Through the air as it dances

Maybe it’s simply

Nature’s love song

Bringing with its delicate,

Whispered words

The smell of rain,

And beginning of spring.

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Today is Trans Day of Visibility, so I thought I’d post this.

Such a Pretty Girl

They look at me and see

The girl I’m not

Something I never could believe in

Words like

You’d be such a pretty girl,

If you’d stop dressing like a boy.

And the misuse of pronouns never really did

Get under my skin

Quite the same

As only ever being looked at

As some pretty girl.

Wanting to be seen for anything

Other than the feminine image

My body portrays

It isn’t me,

Not who I am.

But what’s the point in trying

When so many are denying

That I even exist

Always telling me

I’d make such a pretty girl.

But I take a deep breath in

Reject the place they’ve put me in

There’s so little air in their box,

I never could breathe.

I won’t let the heat of the moment

Tear me down

I’ll stand tall and I’ll be proud

Of who I am

Regardless of what anyone sees

Or thinks

Or feels

Or says

Because I know who I am.

And maybe that won’t always

Feel like enough

But I’ll keep trying

And fighting against the hate

Because my husband loves me

And sees me

My child loves me,

And sees me

For who I am

I don’t ever want to

Notice those little eyes looking up at me

And for him to ever think

He should feel ashamed

If it turns out

He, isn’t a he.