Book Reviews  by Ralph Haselmann Jr.
Lucid Moon Poetry Magazine Issue #35 (July 1999)

Caseworker Days 1968-1970 Poetry chapbook by Robert Cooperman. $6.95 from Pudding House Publications, Pudding House Writers Resource Center, 60 North Main Street, Johnstown, Ohio 43031. This collection presents poem stories about plain folks dealing with the drudgery of life. Some of the poems are from a caseworker's point of view, other poems are about the people themselves told in their own voice. The poems have a down home charm, a world-weariness knowledge of better days to come. The opening poem grabbed my attention, Marion Hopkins Who Has Gone On Welfare Late In Life Lectures Dan Foyle, Caseworker: "That Aretha Franklin, when she sings about "Respect!" Well, I ain't ever got any, not from the white women whose houses I cleaned, my hands crippled now like broom straw. Social Security? That never came up, honey. Just, "Clean behind the stove," or, "You sure you didn't open the silverware drawer?" or, "Here dear, take this dress, it don't do a thing for me." Burned like Satan's handshake to take their charity. Burns worse, taking welfare, me that worked all my life and nothing to show 'cept jacked up food prices on Mother's Days. If the checks come in, junkies going at mailboxes with crowbars. Those boys spent as much time and sweat at jobs 'stead of thievery, they wouldn't need garbage in veins a mother'd love to kiss; Me with a womb so dry and tired from knee-work every child I started died inside me." Finely wrought story poems of the average or poor American, told with the wisdom and grace of a fine storyteller, as good as Raymond Carver's stories. Worth seeking out.

From Pussy To Politics Poetry chapbook by A. D. Winans $6.95 from JVC Books, 509 N 12th Ave, Arcadia, FL 34266 These poems do run the gamut from pussy to politics, in an amusing, richly crafted smorgasbord of sheer poetry food for the brain. Forth Of July Poem reads: "Making love to you your legs held high vertical to the ceiling set against pitch black background the sound of fireworks bursting outside in synch with the oohs and ayahs of singing flesh hot white lava rocket release shooting tracer like bursts as sky rockets fill the night sky coming down low in thunderous applause". Winans sure does have lust in his heart, to borrow a phrase from my favorite President, Jimmy Carter. Winans even writes a sexy paean to Lucid Moon fellow poet Sharon McNulty which first ran in a previous issue of LM. Elsewhere, Winans shines with a little name-dropping that stirs up admiration for the more adventurous days of yore. Looking Back reads: "Oh the thrill it was reading Jack London sailing mythical ships to lands I'll never see The thrill of being in the bullring with Hemingway in France with F. Scott Fitzgerald on Cannery Row what a wild ride it was like rafting over Niagara Falls Mexican jumping beans rattling around inside my head." Time and time again Winans comes up with winning imagery and provocative details that make you giddy. This is fun reading, from a master poet. With a couple of cool doodles from Walt Phillips. I really enjoyed this chapbook.

I Gave My Heart To The Hawks And They Ate It Poetry chapbook by William Taylor Jr. $3 check made out to William Taylor Jr., 217 Berry St, Apt. H, Santa Cruz, CA 95060. A beautiful production with sharply contrasting Black and red cover and quotes from literature, this chap also wins hands down the funniest and best title I've seen in a while! William Taylor Jr. is a poet with the soul of a clown, or a clown with the soul of a poet, I still haven't figured it out. Witness the poem If I Speak Again Let God Remove My Tongue (another great title): "Lately every time I open my mouth I want to slap my face even more than you do." Occasionally, a more serious thought filters through, as in the brilliant, achingly pretty poem The Sad Dumb Beauty Of Everything: "It is there in a dream the moment before waking. It is there in a smile from a stranger burning in the same fire. it is there as we wake up each day caught like fish in the net of ourselves. it is there as you sit naked on the floor smoking a cigarette at 4 a.m. as crazy as a flower in a graveyard. It is there in the empty space your body once filled where your memory still remains left behind like a pair of earrings forgotten on the bed so sad and dumb and beautiful." Fine poetry throughout this chapbook, worth buying.

Incomplete Directions and I Saw A Chinese Boy Poetry chapbooks by Steven Dalachinsky. $8 each from The Beehive Press, 47 East 33rd Street, Bayonne, NJ 07002. Steve Dalachinsky is a great poet and I enjoyed these collections immensely. The poems are colorful and imaginative, with cool jazz neobeat imagery and odes to Allen Ginsberg, Jack kerouac and Jack Micheline. The poems in I Saw A Chinese Boy are arranged on the paper more interestingly, more free-form, and the poems there give a nod to oriental haiku, revived and revered by Kerouac in a special piece that describes his love of the haiku poem form and lists all of his recorded poetry, in books, magazines, on records and tapes. The title poem The Bird (I Saw A Chinese Boy) 2 reads in part "I saw a Chinese boy eating pistachio I sit here writing scorn thinking loving thoughts beat the back that aches cool lee hot trane slow monk dolphy beat down the grisly doors beat the generation lost to paste and send symphonic sounds thru burnt out ears to burn again ah jazz ah jazz (and the bird still sings) generation penetration they sit so void all beaten by their rhythm sticks dyed with cartoon color schemes in robot dress with cyborg minds cosmic safety pins to hold them up rips in eyes and yet like us they seek and scorn a mother's love...bird's mother (tears...tears...and bird...still ...bird) O father come I call you now a willow warm and weeping. relax relax..." These poems crackle with energy and the dizzy swing and bop of bepob jazz language and freeform feel. Two great collections of poetry worth checking out.

Light Fields Poetry chapbook by Michael Kriesel. Write to Chance Magazine Press for price info, 3929 South Fifth Street, Louisville, Kentucky 40214. These poems burst with exuberance for life and nature, and some read like a koan, a moment of truth expressed in a nature poem. Witness the brief but beautiful Pond: " Dragonfly I recognize my heart". Other poems reveal a gentle wisdom and the joy in giving that knowledge, such as The Return: "Nothing's different but what's done all the years are gone the worthy drunks the lovers navy buddies all the truly friends the poems the ones i wasn't quick enough to give form no kingdom comes to comfort me or rare inheritance except the one I left myself of memory no woman waits for me O walt you have been gone too long for me to raise your spirit from these leaves to guide me to your half imagined country one that never came to be but this is not about America or you or me or me sitting in a cemetery pounding my fists on the ground because your friend is dead or mine It is about our time and why we have to live and what we need to give ourselves how we return eternally because there is nowhere to go except ourselves and nothing's different but what's done and all the years come home and I have come to tell you eyes wet one pocket full of dust walking into what's left of the sun I have come to tell you nothing's done" Beautifully wrought images dot these poems, a collection that is a charm and sheer joy to read.

Tales Once Told Poetry chapbook by William S. Mayo. Write to Other Words Studio for price info, 433 N. Market St., Frederick, MD 21701. These poems seem as though they were written in an earlier century, full as they are of wonder at the cosmos and nature, dreams and waking hours, and demons in the night. Only one poem about Allen Ginsberg giving a reading brings us back into the 20th century. The poems have a lyrical beauty that was inspired by the 19th century romantic poets. On Hearing Pastan Read reads: "I met a woman, of firm voice and soft hair, who was yet older than I felt. She talked of flowers and shiny things, of the grass that grew where nothing hid. She rattled about babies being born under crystalline moons, of grandpas who felt cold before the grave. of how life was a clock stopping, a second 'til midnight, and how death was but life incomplete. And as she finished, with a firm hand on her ledger, I shook and wished that I might yet know what words she might have spoken, had her voice not lifted from the air." These poems are soft and luxurious, like a down filled pillow chair, poetry of quiet beauty that stirs the soul.

late additions:

Earth Song Poetry chapbook By Don Divecchio $4 from Ibbetson St. Press, 33 Ibbetson St., Somerville, MA 02143 With photos and artwork by Richard Wilhelm and Howard Cunniff. These poems are socially and politically aware, and some revolve around the theme of the men's consciousness raising movement, which Divecchio started in the Boston area in the 1970's. The poems are plain and simple, but not without art. The thoughts expressed are for a more harmonious world, not so much that annoying political correctness, but more a reaching out of humanity and kindness for fellow man. The opening poem is wondrous for a time long since gone: "Walking through the streets of Cambridge, down Harvard Street, across Mass Ave., through Central Square. There are visions, memories, fragrances--images of the 70's embrace me like brisk earthy scents. i remember the peace marches, the women's rallies, the human rights protests, Black and White together--the air was charged with purpose, alive with meaning--There was the street music, "Guerrilla Theater", Hippies selling crafts, festivals on the Commons, dancing in Holyoke Center. I remember the "Free Boxes" filled with clothing and the people's bus that travelled up and down Mass Ave. for donations. Now, today, I am a stranger walking through some alien land called Cambridge--I weep--There is a coldness here, a kind of dying, a sterility, a tumor covered over in fine clothing. A wealthy couple pass by looking contemptuously, arrogantly--I am made to feel less human. i weep again for Cambridge, once a village, now an expensive Manhattan, an elegant shopping mall. Rent control has ended. Greed has grown here--conformity and conservatism buzz about me like ravenous wasps. I am feeling this war against the poor. There's a hatred steaming and boiling against Free Thinkers, nonconformists and activists. Repression and ignorance are gorging themselves. I am weeping for Cambridge and I am organizing." These poems are chicken soup for the soul, with fine photos from earlier eras that evoke a nostalgia for better times.

In This Relative Reality Poetry manuscript by Nathan Mountain. Write to Nathan at 22478 Derik Rd, Springdale, AR 72764 for price info. Crisp writing rich in metaphor and meaning, bursting with life and stunning detail. The book opens with a great poem, and this is just the beginning: The Tragedy Of Clarity reads: "Clarity is highly overrated. I would rather trip on the blur, frayed edges of "maybe"s and "possibly"s, trading hypothetical"s in the dim haze of a stairwell scope. Sifting through the strobelight sedatives that numb me with a California view, dizzy through the spin of a revolving trap door, high on the possibilities that come from sentences that drag their drunken punctuation so far behind that Twain could change his story and change my mind. Trimming the static from the bulk of the precision and letting it fall like confetti upon the paths of my wandering thoughts. And just when the words start to make sense I will paint them with pastels like a schizophrenic Renoir and douse them with gasoline. And I will title it: The Tragedy Of Clarity." Daring, provocative imagery throughout this thoughtful collection of sheer poetic bliss. The best poetry book I reviewed this month. Please write to Nathan for details about this manuscript, if it will be made into a book, etc.

Poetry For The Angels: Inspiration For Us All Poetry book by Eric Mathew Brodsky. $8 from Eric Mathew Brodsky, The Universal One Foundation, PO Box 34650, Philadelphia, PA 19101. Brodsky was born prematurely and was given little chance to live, but he survived and has dedicated his life to sending out positive vibes and messages of love. It's easy to be cynical about a work such as this: the poems all rhyme and preach a pseudo-political correctness of no alcohol or drugs and respect in relationships, waiting until marriage to have sex, and caring for your fellow man. But I was somehow humbled and touched by these poems, the same way my grandmother loves to watch the television show Touched By An Angel or I used to like to watch The Waltons or Little House On The Prairie. There is a plea for humanity amidst all the technology droning around us in our daily lives. The cover by Deborah Hill is a beautiful collage of purple sky over blue green ocean, clouds allowing rays of sunlight to pour through, and that is the feeling one gets when reading these short message poems. The poems strain to rhyme in places, and I would have preferred free verse poetry, because there wouldn't be as much of a falsity of following form, but I did enjoy some of the verse. Energy reads: "Creation is pure energy, from rocks to the sea, the difference is appearance, and the matter's density. All energy is vibrational, that vary by their rate, molecules in "slow" motion, have a "heavier" weight. To process any thought, in energy in motion, e-motion is projected out, within the etherial ocean. We live in this eternal sea, where thoughts accumulate, choose them in peace and joy, and love will circulate." A Hug reads: "To share a hug with someone, is to amplify Our light, which heals mind and body, where love illumines bright. There is power in a hug, it is a sacred embrace, spiritual love is shared, as a connection of Grace. It is a momentary bond, which varies in duration, yet the prolonged effects, are of peace and elation. This brief period of time, is one where fears drop, inspiring blissful harmony, that need not ever stop." The late Leo Buscaglia preached the healing power of hugs and wrote many books on the subject. Eric preaches hugs too, and I've tried to get my macho friends to hug me on occasion, with mixed results! This book makes you feel good, although it is worlds away from underground Beat poetry or even heartfelt romantic poetry, even though it is heartfelt. I guess the rhyming annoyed me, but overall this is a heartfelt effort. When one is blinded by a mission, you have to give them credit where credit is due. And I'd rather live in a world where guys can hug each other than in a world where we can't express our emotions openly. Kudos to Eric Mathew Brodsky and his Universal One Foundation for attempting to open his and our eyes to a worthy goal.

Please send chapbooks, books, tapes, cds, broadsides and such for review to Ralph Haselmann Jr., 67 Norma Road, Hampton, NJ 08827. Please include price, who to make check out to and address (where to order from). Thanks!