Smelling of mice nests [US]:
Simic is not, clearly, a poet you turn to for vast variations in the literal or metaphorical landscape: he has a certain view of the way the world is, and each of his books illustrates this view, whether it be some versified tale of a rat being bludgeoned to death at a school nativity play ("Note"); a vision of a madwoman marking Xs with a piece of chalk "On the backs of unsuspecting / Hand-holding, homebound couples" ("Early Evening Algebra"); or the "Millions of empty rooms with TV sets turned on" in "Hotel Starry Sky". His work reads like one big poem or project, a vast Simic-scape of "eternal November" ("Classic Ballroom Dances"), where "It looks so dark the end of the world may be near" ("Blood Orange"), with "The weight of tragic events / On everyone's back" ("Toward Nightfall"), and where "a day doesn't go by without me / Sticking a loaded revolver inside my mouth" ("Mummy's Curse"). [...]
This entry was posted by eeksypeeksy
on Wednesday, April 06, 2005 at 8:58 AM.
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