Book Review, Poetry Magazine (March, 2017)

Book Review, Poetry Magazine (March, 2017)

I have mixed feelings for this issue of Poetry Magazine.  The requirement for my circumstances should be understood: from gazing at conflicting selections across the pages under eyesight and developing knowledge, many facts remain imaginary, particular to faith, belief, and reasons.  The best poem in this collection (I think) is our very first one behind the front cover dedicated to a past poet from the spirit of natural effects.  Then, the first official poem of the 2017 issue is probably the worst poem from such a small white book- nothing really makes sense and the words used don’t lead to a sensual, correct estimation without hard, unnecessary authorship.  Look, I’m a critic, okay?  My job is to let readers of criticism save money, time, and effort, not to give everybody trophies and honors.  We’re in an American society with classes.  At least you’ll find a variety of classes represented in the given book and so many authors come into the picture with exaggerations.  Individualism and collectivism become ordinary effects along the edge: eyes, nose, ears, mouth, and the rest.  Vocabulary to a great extent is added to the senses.  What do they say about eyes?  What do they say about nose?  What do they say about ears?  (Language keeps having the ride when it’s present.)  Obstacles in the way aren’t just dismissed or avoided; no, the poets face them with some hostility and turmoil, or, with some dignified expressions.  Rhyme can be found between the lines.  That is, we find rhyme in the depths and not so much from looking at exact page-marks.  Wild, crazy ideas get passed.  Some poets are further used to mystery by customs of ordinance provided for with crafting, finishing, and (if the boot fits) romantic gestures.  If a scholar looks at this book and says it’s not language then we can be safe to say he or she is out of line- “language” is something egotistic on levels realized or ignored for quality purposes and just the presence of vocabulary leads us to greater mental acuity while it’s right by all means.  Would any of us walk up to a poet and tell him or her that he or she doesn’t actually speak language?  How rude would that be!  Maybe if scholars would’ve believed in someone’s language more they wouldn’t be so confused and hopeless all the time.  Besides, Poetry Magazine is a work of art, right?  Every art has languages to it; so, poetry, when art, always has languages to it.  Ignore “common words” to an extent- those belong to everybody and, therefore, belong to nobody since the common words become so used they end up being unqualified for true, precise language.  We might as well say that someone who only breathes is a professional with expertise.  (By the way, equality usually isn’t a clone system.)  

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