{"id":1299,"date":"2025-07-04T17:11:40","date_gmt":"2025-07-04T17:11:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/?page_id=1299"},"modified":"2025-07-04T17:11:40","modified_gmt":"2025-07-04T17:11:40","slug":"speculative-poetry-book-reviews-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/resources\/speculative-poetry-book-reviews\/speculative-poetry-book-reviews-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Speculative Poetry Book Reviews: 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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This page contains reviews of books, chapbooks, anthologies, and collections containing or related to poetry within the SF\/F\/H\/spec genres. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Books on this page were published in 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Astropoetry<\/em> by Christina Sng.
(Alban Lake, 2017). 45 pp. Paper $6.00, digital $1.99.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Collection of Nightmares<\/em> by Christina Sng.
(Raw Dog Screaming Press, 2017). 88 pp. Paper $10.95 digital $4.99.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One could argue that the very nature of haiku, senryu, and other short poetic forms is to capture an essence and then deliver a twist. In Astropoetry: Poems Celebrating the Wonders and Mysteries of Space,<\/em> Christina Sng exceeds and surpasses this, frequently starting with a twist and then delivering another. For example, in \u201cCeres Mystery,\u201d we see a fact turned into a mystery turned into an ominous technology:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Not enough light for
Earth to see what\u2019s on Ceres
Light absorber works<\/em> (18)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Even more impressive. \u201cCeres Mystery\u201d is only one part of an extended poetic series on Ceres that is a fascinating study of the mystery and danger of space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even more essential to Astropoetry\u2019s<\/em> success, beyond its technical acumen and deeply thought-out premises, is Sng\u2019s sense of humor, particularly around Halloween (see \u201cHalloween Detour\u201d). This is most evident in \u201cHalloween on the International Space Station,\u201d and the astronaut\u2019s trickery:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

On the ISS
Astronauts dress as aliens
Video call to Earth<\/em> (15)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This sense of joy mixes with the mystery and awe of humanity moving beyond Earth. Astropoetry captures the enormous scope of astronomical travel by layering its poems in the order of distance from the sun, out. We watch as humans take their first stab at colonization, and we see the beauty of the enormous astronomical bodies that ravage distant space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With A Collection of Nightmares: Even the Most Exquisite Dreams Turn Dark,<\/em> Sng spends much more time in longer-form poetry, but the twists of both theme and execution are even stronger than those of Astropoetry.<\/em> As opposed to the previous collection, which demonstrated a sense of optimism and wonder in the face of a dangerous universe, A Collection of Nightmares<\/em> spends more time exploring people trapped with their darkness. Sometimes literally, as in \u201cThey Do Not Sleep,\u201d in which someone tries to run away from their fears,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

. . . only to find
You have locked yourself
In with it<\/em>[.] (22)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Sng\u2019s sense of humor is still present in A Collection of Nightmares,<\/em> but here it takes the form of gallows humor of the darkest stylings. A peaceful mother takes a nap holding her child\u2019s head in her lap. A cancer patient tries to fly. Pain is healed through cutting flesh. And in sum, Sng shows how these darkest ironies hold the strongest kernels of truth within them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Redemption is a large part of A Collection of Nightmares.<\/em> An offended woman\u2019s husband finds a way to seek vengeance in her honor. A mother finds a mirror to see her dead son. An abuse victim with \u201cbruises \/ Piled on top of each other\u201d ends the cycle of violence. Even the Twilight Zone<\/em>\u2013esque story told in \u201cThe Atomizer and the Matchbox.\u201d The characters that populate these poems seek lives fuller than the ones they live within, and will take means to reach them. Sometimes bloody, violent means, but means nonetheless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Astropoetry<\/em> and A Collection of Nightmares<\/em> both demonstrate, at their core, Sng\u2019s thematic concerns of human agency. Our ability to succeed, our capacity to fail, and the bounds on both. And within that framework, Sng both places the reader as a human in a vast universe of space and of fear, and reminds us that even when surrounded by this vastness, being human matters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Luke Forney<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Built to Serve<\/em> by G. O. Clark; cover illustration by Sandy DeLuca
Alban Lake, 2017. 24 pp. $6 paperback; $1.99 Kindle. albanlake.com<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve read a lot of G. O. Clark\u2019s poetry, but I can\u2019t remember a collection I enjoyed as much as this one. Clark takes all our favorite robot tropes: Robby the Robot, Asimov\u2019s Three Laws of robotics, Gort, Bradbury\u2019s the Electric Hound, and even the Tin Man, and puts them into a collection that covers a lot of our hopes and fears about our A.I. friends.
It never occurred to me that Baum\u2019s Tin Man is indeed an A.I., but Clark makes that clear in his simply titled \u201cThe Tin Man\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

He\u2019s heard tales
about the wizard, who
performs miracles in the
mythical city they just happen
to be traveling to. A good heart
specialist would be more logical,
but he lacks insurance<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Ah, yes\u2014that\u2019s always the case with robots, isn\u2019t it? Their logic is superior to ours, or at least they consult it more than we do. And speaking of heart, here\u2019s a stanza from a poem that is right after my own clockwork one, titled \u201cThe Steam-Powered Robot\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The steam-powered robot
is from another era, one where he still
had time to dream at night, the 24\/7
work week not yet standard.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s no shortage of sexbots in this book, either; mostly they are treated with humor, although \u201cLady Robotica\u201d is pure horror:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Your bones are but
balsa wood in her embrace,
and your flesh a practice hide
for this tattoo artist\u2019s painfully
intimate caress.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

With all the fun ideas there is some lovely imagery, too, as in \u201cDistant Target\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The engines of darkness
are idling in the night, awaiting
the slow alignment of the stars,
destination blessed.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d say that Clark does a pretty good job combining robots from popular culture with the conflicting emotions we have about the whole idea of mechanical men and artificially intelligent beings. This is accessible poetry, and I\u2019d highly recommend the book not only to poetry readers who are SF fans, but also to robot fans who have yet to see how much fun poetry can be. So score this one highly for me, as it\u2019s the kind of book I\u2019d give as a gift to any robot fan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But just as I\u2019m about to smile and say how fun this one is, I reread the selection titled \u201cIt\u2019s All in the Programming.\u201d Perhaps Clark hasn\u2019t been talking about robots at all, at least not completely\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

It\u2019s a discontented robot
who lounges upon an old park bench,
head propped against the rusty, cast iron arm,
all too aware of the waking nightmare
of existence, wishing its processors
would just fail.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In the end, robots are just reflections of those who made them. Nothing makes that clearer that this set of highly enjoyable poems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Denise Dumars<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Built to Serve: Robot Poems<\/em> is a book of great science fiction ideas. If one of the keys to speculative poetry is to speculate, or ask questions, then G. O. Clark spreads his imagination wide and asks some bizarre questions about robots. How would electricity taste for a robot? What would a robot be like if it were a Luddite? What would a robot prostitute be like for a human being well past one hundred years of age? What would a peeping Tom see if he caught a robot undressing? Clark attempts to answer these and other questions with his poems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unfortunately, Clark\u2019s craft is not up to the task. His poems suffer from basic flaws. For example, Clark\u2019s lines are littered with abstractions that leave the reader with vague impressions of his visions, but little else. Describing a robot Casanova in the poem \u201cBuilt to Serve,\u201d we are presented with a robot who<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

is ever ready to serve
its mistress, and<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

is fully functional,
programmed in the arts
of pleasure, classic
and modern.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Lines like these possibly allude to something sexual, but the language is so hazy and unformed as to mean almost anything. This sort of language seems especially prevalent at the end of Clark\u2019s poems. There seems to be an idea that ending on abstract language sums the poem up in some profound way. So a poem about robots preparing to build the human bodies of their masters after a long space journey ends with the fuzzy lines \u201cmemory banks ready\/to download the essence of those\/too finite to go the distance,\u201d which provide a vague understanding of the scene at best, but offer the reader no way in to the poem, no way to experience the situation for themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Occasionally, Clark produces a stanza of strong imagery or language. For example, describing a robotic dance that occurs while the humans are still in cryosleep, he writes<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Bathed in red light,
the robots twirl beneath the
view-ports, whirl about like dervishes
before their god, gravity and
the dance intensifying.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

While not perfect (\u201cdervishes\u201d is a particularly weak and obvious vehicle for \u201cwhirl\u201d), there is at least some visual imagery here for the reader to participate in. There\u2019s also this section from the poem \u201cMuseum Piece,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

He has a coffee pot
for a head,
an aluminum hot water urn
for a body,
two stainless steel, conical
lamp shade breasts,
arms and legs shaped from
miscellaneous pipes and scraps,
and a billowing skirt made from
an aluminum saucer-sled.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Again, readers can clearly visualize this robot. Examples like this are rare, and stand out all the more so for it. It\u2019s clear that Clark can use imagery, but for some reason chooses not to in the bulk of his poems, and the reader suffers for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Apart from the issues with the poetry, there are clear editorial and design issues as well. The pages are littered with basic errors, from missing or unnecessary punctuation to some misspelled words. While one might expect one or two of these errors in any given text, the overabundance of them here makes the reading and enjoyment of the poems difficult. The biggest issue, though, are the three two-page ads for Clark\u2019s other books on the press. These are major distractions for the reader. One argues that song lyrics are poetry, which is problematic in itself, and uses some of the most unpoetic lyrics to prove its point and sell Clark\u2019s other book. The other two ads are for Clark\u2019s fiction books, and have nothing to do with poetry at all. The overall effect of the ads and other issues is that this book is merely a vehicle to plug Clark\u2019s other works, and that the poetry is secondary to the money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are a host of other problems in this book, from clich\u00e9d language to misunderstandings with poetic form to ineffective line breaks. Primarily, though, the abstract language and extreme lack of imagery is what separates this book from the reader, and that\u2019s a shame, because the ideas behind these poems have a lot of potential and deserve to be explored fully. Ultimately, this is a collection of really great questions and concepts that are poorly executed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Joshua Gage<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

A Catalogue of the Further Suns: Pr\u00e9cis of Reports Compiled by the Preliminary Survey Expeditions<\/em> by F. J. Bergmann.
(Gold Line Press, 2017, winner of chapbook contest). 48 pages, paperback. $10.00. goldlinepress.com<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In A Catalogue of the Further Suns,<\/em> F. J. Bergmann has given readers 29 dense and well-wrought poems, each a chilling cautionary tale reflecting a space-faring culture\u2019s dangerous preconceptions and damaging cultural misadventures as it careens across the universe. With the neocolonial smugness of the irrevocably unempathic, the scientifically detached reporters summarize their alien first encounters, dwelling most often on the final facts that precipitate their departures. For instance, the initial poem, \u201cOvertures,\u201d describes a culture where infants are given open wounds that are kept open by plugs and slowly made larger, an intentional \u201cemptiness\u201d that\u2019s interwoven with the sexual and the spiritual. Bergmann describes the haphazard process by which sharing begins: \u201cWhen they caught our chief \/ zoolologist with her favorite \/ sex toy, they seemed satisfied \/ and began sharing their private \/ cultural practices,\u201d but there is always a dangerous moment where recognition of apprehended similarity turns to reveal inevitable, unacceptable differences, familiarity breeding contempt and taboo commission, apparently unavoidable:  \u201cWe had to leave precipitately. \/ Our departing ship tore a hole \/ through the skin of clouds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bergmann is the poetry editor of Mobius: the Journal of Social Change,<\/em> and her poetry explores the morality of social change, interweaving our anthropological past with present trends. \u201cCode of Ethics,\u201d \u201cCultural Climate\u201d and \u201cHydromorphology\u201d describe the folly of ignoring a culture\u2019s effect on its environment. In \u201cXiphiarchy,\u201d which means \u201crule by the sword,\u201d she slyly takes aim at the present trend of rearming America: \u201cTheir children were trained to bear \/ arms from the earliest age at which \/ they could be induced to ask for them. \/ All their toys were dangerous.\u201d In \u201cCultural Exchange\u201d first contact itself proves mutually destructive, a worst case extraterrestrial scenario based on European explorers\u2019 first contacts with aboriginals. In \u201cAscendance,\u201d the issue is the connection between cultural (in this case culinary) rigidity and shame. Correspondingly, \u201cExobiology III\u201d is a horrifying culinary example of the complicity that can be involved in racism. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like Ursula K. LeGuin and Ray Bradbury before her, Bergmann reflects on the damage that even the well-intentioned can cause. Overall, these powerful SF poems explore the Alien within, implying important moral questions about boundaries and balance, and acknowledging that fools do indeed rush in (and afterwards rationalize their lack of responsibility for what happened because of it). Highly recommended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Sandra J. Lindow<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Crossing Paths at Midnight<\/em> by Alan Katerinsky.
(CWP Collective Press, 2017). 25 pp. Paper, $5.00.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

CWP Collective Press is an energetic new publisher in Western New York that has dipped into specpo a time or two. At least a third of this book is not formally speculative, yet many poems that are not overtly genre still touch on genre tropes and vocabulary. Consider the first stanza of \u201cSuccess Parameters\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Although I have warrior dreams
and a poet\u2019s heart,
I am, after all,
a paper-pushing functionary
in a bureaucratic position. <\/em>(25)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Within that quote, the schism between devotees of the speculative and slaves of the literal is outlined and branded into the brains of those of us who have worked at mindless jobs while dreaming of grander worlds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To go farther with the book\u2019s fusionist trend, I suggest that one strange element of the collection is that non-genre poems often seem genre, and genre poems sometimes feel non-. For example, Katerinsky\u2019s meditation on \u201cThe Value of Science Fiction,\u201d which first appeared in the genre magazine FrostFire Worlds,<\/em> is formally speculative only in the sense that it posits<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Science Fiction is the religion
of the second half of the
twentieth century.<\/em> (17)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

It also uses the language of specpo:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

It is not that we prepare
for the destruction of society,
the old society has been destroyed,
we are forging a new world
out [of] the shards of the old.<\/em> (17)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

And yet, within the poem there is no literal use of impossibility, no reliance on science or horror, no magic realism. This begs the question: Is poetry about science fiction inherently speculative? After reading this, I say yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other side of the equation, when genre sounds non, is exemplified by \u201cSeven Deadly Friends.\u201d There is a certain brilliance in writing a poem of eight stanzas of 5\/7\/5 syllable counts based on this premise\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Sisyphus sits by
having a smoke break amidst
the eternal flames<\/em> (4)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\u2014and having it sound so natural that it could be someone at the bus stop harping about work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is the work of an older, and sometimes crankier, writer and it shows at times. The book opens with \u201cZip Up Young Man!\u201d and contains advice and regret that accrues with the decades such as \u201cProgress\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The great teacher pain
freely confers her wisdom.
See how much I\u2019ve learned?<\/em> (14)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Over the last three years Katerinsky\u2019s poems have slowly trickled into Star*Line, Scifaikuest,<\/em> and other familiar places. This is the poet\u2019s first collection, and having a whole book full of his poems at once is a treasure for me. I\u2019ll be wishing for more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Herb Kauderer<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Darkverse: The Shadow Hours<\/em> by Lori R. Lopez
(Fairy Fly Entertainment, 2017) 632 pp. Kindle $11.99.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Darkverse: The Shadow Hours<\/em> by Lori R. Lopez seems to be an illustrated omnibus of attempted horror poetry. Most of the poems in this volume suffer from basic craft issues and seem to be either linguistic trifles with little depth or prose chopped into weak line breaks. Very few of them seem edited or curated, and the enormous length of this volume makes for a difficult read indeed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The poems in Darkverse: The Shadow Hours<\/em> suffer from the most basic of craft issues. From the opening pages, there are the obvious cliches and abstractions that mark this as unedited and amateur poetry:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Snug within my sanctuaries, my havens of light,
the retreats where I feel most sheltered \u2026 Safe
inside a fortress of invisible armor and courage,
I vainly endeavor to outwait the storms of the dark.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This opening verse, and the rest of the opening and eponymous poem \u201cDarkverse,\u201d has all the hallmarks of poor poetry\u2014lack of imagery, cliches, abstractions, etc. Were this a one-off piece, it might be okay, but the bulk of Darkverse: The Shadow Hours<\/em> reads like this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alternately, readers are presented with poems like \u201cHaunted House,\u201d which begins:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An eyesore
Crumbling ruins
A scary place
Creaky, peeling, unkempt
Old mansion
Someone\u2019s home
A spooky shell<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Again, all the flaws of bad poetry are here\u2014excessive adjectives, poor formatting, abstraction, etc. The only difference between poems like this and the previous example are the length. Lopez\u2019s poems are either pages in length or, alternately, little, short pieces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The review copy of this book is only 515 pages. The Kindle version on Amazon is 632 pages, so I assume the poems are given their space to breathe in the Kindle version. However, in the preview version, they\u2019re packed onto the pages between Lopez\u2019s own artwork, which makes them difficult to read or separate from each other. That being said, if the short<\/em> version of this book is 515 pages, there\u2019s a problem already. For comparison, a recent version of Milton\u2019s Paradise Lost<\/em> is only 512 pages. This omnibus is ridiculous in length, and very few of the poems have been published outside of Lopez\u2019s previously self-published collections, so there\u2019s very little editing here. So, in length, editing, and presentation, this book has all the signs of a poor, self-published book, and only the most die-hard fans of speculative or horror poetry will get anything from this collection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Joshua Gage<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Dear Deepest Ghost<\/em> by Meg Smith
(2017) 126 pp. Paperback $14.95<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s always difficult to review a \u201cnew and collected\u201d book. People naturally change, and their voices develop, grow, take different directions, etc. throughout their writing career. Dear Deepest Ghost<\/em> by Meg Smith is a new and collected book stretching back to the mid-1990s all the way up to 2016. So, with twenty-plus years of poetry in this volume, readers can expect to see various shifts and changes in Smith\u2019s voice, focus, writing style, etc. This makes for a complicated read, but taken slowly, Dear Deepest Ghost<\/em> is an impressive collection of poetry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dear Deepest Ghost<\/em> is not a pure speculative collection. There are plenty of speculative poems, to be sure, a few of which are award-nominated. But there are plenty of non-speculative poems, too. At times, these poems seem deeply personal, and deal with extended metaphors and simple, direct language. A poem like \u201cMoving Stones\u201d begins:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

My mother and I are stone people.
We grew up out of the ground
and no one had to tell us.
We were simple and round,
and the ground said
so be it as if we were
a pub and a house.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a direct poem, and works for an introspective family piece, and a lot of Smith\u2019s work seems focused on those themes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Relationships, familial and otherwise, also seem to play a large role in Smith\u2019s poetry, and even when she dips into speculative themes, these sorts of ideas are still prevalent, as in \u201cOrion Theory\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

In the kitchen, you begin to tell me
about the true age of the pyramids,
and how pharaohs lay facing the stars,
and reaching for the arrows of Orion.
I want to listen, truly.
I have always wanted Orion in my reach\u2014
a seeker of stars, a core of fir
that knows no death.
But here, on Earth, we are in a small place.
Around is a sound, like mesh, of conversation.
I hear only the name of Orion.
I want only to reach out to you
and a vast place of the comfort
of darkness and stars like hearts whose fever is
without dawn.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a fine poem, pleasant and subtle, but effective in capturing the feelings of a moment in time. This is true for most of Smith\u2019s work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith\u2019s true speculative poetry, the poems that SpecPo purists will look for, are also quite successful. For example, her poem \u201cAstronaut\u201d begins:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The crumbling of stars
makes the trail home
through a track of dark steps
from route to route
and no light in between,
only words.
The page is a long night in reverse
and the words are the negatives of suns.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This is really unique language, and there\u2019s hints of the mythic within the speculative that really works to add layers to this piece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meg Smith is a talented and multi-faceted poet, and Dear Deepest Ghost<\/em> stands as a testament to that. As a \u201cnew and collected,\u201d it\u2019s a wide-ranging text, and while all the poems included are not speculative, they are well-written and will catch the attention of poetry readers. However, for SpecPo purists, there is plenty of speculative content here, too, to keep those readers interested as well. Overall, a very successful collection of poetry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Joshua Gage<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Flying Solo: The Lana Invasion<\/em> (a novella in verse) by Herb Kauderer.
(Author Series 36, The Poet\u2019s Haven, 2017) saddle-stitched chapbook, color cover, $6.00 US\/Canada. boutique.poetshaven.com<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flying Solo<\/em> is a very small book. It\u2019s about 5\u201d high by 4\u201d wide. Thus, the contents are no more a novella (and no less) than a typical graphic novel is a novel. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The story of Earth\u2019s invasion by an advanced avian culture is told in 30 short poems. The lana<\/em> possess advanced tech and a mission to assimilate the cosmos. Their standard procedure for invasion of a new solar system has never failed, as far as this ship\u2019s crew knows. The cloaked mothership enters orbit and deploys a cadre of solitary scouts to infiltrate and find out what makes this new world tick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From \u201cIndigenous peoples\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

noble birds of prey
feasting on wildness
and defending the skies
…
cleaners
processing remains
of frequent brawls
among the chaos of lower lifeforms<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

modest sentinels
patrolling
roosting on defensive wires
strung across landscapes<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The story focuses on the adventures of a single scout as she struggles to comprehend the essence of this world. One of the first tasks is to communicate with the natives, the intelligent avians who rule this world, as the natives do every civilized world they\u2019ve found. For the first time in her memory this proves well-nigh impossible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From \u201cfirst contact\u201d:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

feels the thrill of the bird of prey
closing on her at full speed<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

she waits for the wind
of the sudden halt of its flight
and the modest pecking of dominance
that will open communication
with a new world<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This world is unique. Not only have the avians seemingly failed to dominate (and what kind of creature rules in their stead?), but the scout begins to harbor heretical thoughts. The longer she spends on this bizarre world, the more deviant her thoughts become, and the more secretive her behavior. As the true nature of life on this peculiar double planet becomes clear to the lana, they have to utterly rethink their plans for conquest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thoroughly enjoyed Flying Solo.<\/em> This sequence of poems tells its tale well, building suspense, creating character, and bringing the reader along as the story unfolds. Also, each poem works on its own both as chapter and verse, advancing the plot with a light touch. This charming SF story makes no attempt to explain how avians mastered or invented advanced technology, but if you take that as your one big assumption, your reward will be a fun read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014David C. Kopaska-Merkel<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The Magician’s Handbook<\/em> by Grant Clauser. (PS Books, 2017) 94 pp. Paperback $15.
amazon.com\/Magicians-Handbook-Grant-Clauser\/dp\/0990471586<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In this steadily escalating series of connected poems, there’s an applaudable directness. An eye contact. A symphony that is the opposite of bombastic, but still makes your skin shiver. I mean this: there is a simple and frank directness, none of the usual “poetic” misdirection. These poems wear their everyday grimace and never think about the veils they packed away so many years ago. Clauser stands against fluff, and even his punchlines (for there are quite a few laughs between the cracks) hit like a handshake from a long-lost relative at a family reunion who has an important story to tell you. Stripped down to simple words and carnival concepts we can all relate to, these poems are still beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The central conceit is a tale about the life of a magician\u2014as in, the sleight-of-hand variety\u2014but this book is like a Penn and Teller routine which baldly explains the details of the trick to the audience even as it goes along. There goes the ball. It’s in his pocket now. You were told the words would do this, you were warned, but they still hit. There is no claim to cleverness. This self-deceptive self-effacing power makes these poems greater than the sum of their parts. Although I remarked aloud at several great endings, the effect this collection leaves with me is deeper than its honest schtick and obvious magical metaphors for living, loving, and aging imply. Perhaps this hits me harder as a fan of legerdemain: one who is willing to have his biases and flaws misused, one who is willing to be dragged into the beautiful lie that everything might make sense if… yes, that’s my card! How did you do that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Daniel G. Fitch<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Metastable Systems<\/em> by David C. Kopaska-Merkel.
(Diminuendo Press, 2017). 141 pp. Paperback $13.00. eBook, $2.99. Introduction by Ann K. Schwader.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Metastable Systems<\/em> is a large poetry collection by SFPA Grandmaster David C. Kopaska-Merkel (hereafter DKM), and weighs in at over ten thousand words. Poems long and short are represented. After the first poem, the book is divided into five sections\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I. The Tumbler Stars Click Home
II. Space and Time
III. She Blinded Me
IV. Horror and Humor
V. Even Fantasy Has Rules<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\u2014and the first two and last two could easily be their own books. In the middle is the slight, four-page section labelled, \u201cShe Blinded Me,\u201d conjuring Thomas Dolby\u2019s 1982 hit song \u201cShe Blinded Me With Science.\u201d In a sense that balances nicely the physics of the first half and the fantastical elements of the second half.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps more importantly, it gathers five of the more science term\u2013intensive poems into one place. You see, DKM\u2019s humor and whimsy can distract from the fact that he has a PhD specializing in carbonate geology and paleontology, and he is not afraid to tap into the knowledge or vocabulary connected with that, using words in this collection that include: U-Pb isotopes, bryozoans, mosasaur, Baculites, carid bauplan, pyrophiles, chromatophores, and pinnipeds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of course, he also uses remarkable vocabulary not particularly affiliated with his science training, such as cerulean, midden, corvid, and words more or less made up, such as febbish, pellucidity, concijun, and skwEzz\u2019z. (Boy, would I like to play Free Rice with his spellchecker at hand.) The part that impresses is that the vocabulary enriches rather than obstructs the poetry, even when the reader doesn\u2019t happen to know a given word. (Not that specpo readers don\u2019t enjoy rich vocabulary. We do.) Similarly, there are many references to classic horror, such as Tekeli-li, Dunwich Aquarium, and Innsmouth, that adds to the poetry if you are read in that area, but does not detract much if you are not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Further, DKM\u2019s knowledge of non-specpo poets should not beoverlooked, especially when they write specpo. It manifests itself here in a reference to T. S. Eliot and his cats (57). \u201cThe spines that pierce, \/ the cones that crush\u201d (65) hearkens back to \u201cThe jaws that bite, the claws that catch\u201d from \u201cJabberwocky.\u201d The resonances of the sonnet \u201cIs Mars Dead?\u201d (44) connect to works past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The differing sections do not divide DKM\u2019s authorial voice. His dry, sometimes dark humor is in evidence with a poem that references another pop song. The poem \u201cMy Nano Ain\u2019t Fixin To Waste Its Time On That\u201d opens with a seven-word quote from Smash Mouth\u2019s 1997 debut single \u201cWalkin\u2019 on the Sun.\u201d DKM takes the lyric from the viewpoint of sunwalking as \u201cone of the more expensive, and impractical, forms of suicide\u201d (32) and analyzes it at length both humorously and nihilistically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

DKM often writes of dislocation such as:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

dreamed I was the one
who slept on when we arrived
I woke alone
dark and empty corridors
blue world in the viewport<\/em> (26)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

but also with humor of many flavors such as this from \u201cIf we lived on an apricot\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

You could get drunk
On what came out of a volcano<\/em> (125)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

And \u201cLittle Voice in My Head\u201d (31) in which the narrator gets a new memory chip, and his wife wants him to let the computer upload of her dead mother live there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I believe one of the strongest components of the book is the transportation of locale and viewpoint. When DKM writes \u201cnothing beats \/ A Cajun trilobite boil on the beach \/ Under the swift Paleozoic sun\u201d (66), I\u2019m ready for time travel back to when Earth was the planet of the trilobites. \u201cThe Woods Look Up\u201d (39) is from the point of view of a forest, dreaming of flight. How can I look at trees the same after that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the end, this is a meaty work of high science literacy, creativity, originality, playfulness, wistfulness, artfulness, and fun. And that is a marvelous thing. The last poem in the book, \u201cThe Origami Ship\u201d (137), connects all the grandeur of science fiction to the magic of sitting and reading. All the other richnesses of the work should not overlook its power: the power of words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Herb Kauderer<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

New Yesterdays, New Tomorrows<\/em> by Brian Garrison.
(2017). 26 pp. Paperback $12.00. bugthewriter.com\/p\/buy-things.html<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

New Yesterdays, New Tomorrows<\/em> by Brian Garrison is a 50-poem chapbook, proudly self-published, in other words, with no imprint except his own name. You may know Garrison as the founder and editor of Parody Poetry Magazine, so it is no surprise to find some parodies in the collection, of Frost (\u201cThe Sip Not Taken\u201d), Cummings (\u201cTechnology I Love You\u201d), Whitman (\u201cWhen I Look\u2019d Up in Perfect Silence at the Stars\u201d), and Dickinson (\u201c Fear\u2019 is the thing with dark fur\u201d)\u2014funny but also wise and deep. There is slapstick here too: in \u201cLess Popular Dinosaurs\u201d we find \u201cAchillesheelosaurus\u201d and \u201cAldentesaurus,\u201d for example.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m definitely a big fan of light poetry\u2014you may have read in my intro to this Star*Line<\/em> issue that we\u2019re highlighting light poetry this time\u2014but I want to emphasize for this review that this chapbook is much more than light poetry; it takes on weighty issues and showcases a wide-ranging perspective on the world, on society, on nature, on what makes us human. His Williams parody, \u201cThe Red Spacesuit\u201d brings together whimsy\u2014\u201cmy daughter\u2019s red captain\u2019s \/ spacesuit\u201d\u2014with \u201cearth\u2019s final sunrise\u201d (a comment on runaway technology, perhaps?) and a hopeful image\u2014\u201cbeside the white \/ rockets\u201d\u2014to suggest that humankind may yet survive the impending apocalypse within the universe of the poem and, by extension, our real-world environmental troubles. Quite a balancing act, there. Many of the poems in the book are similar high-wire performances. I highly recommend Garrison\u2019s wonderful chapbook and hope you will consider not only purchasing it but also voting for it in the Elgin awards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Vince Gotera<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Ruminations<\/em> by Ian Brunner.
(CWP Collective Press, 2017). 35 pp. Paper $5.00.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The publisher has said \u201cIan\u2019s poems are an homage to the Elder Gods,\u201d and the cover depicts the author levitating in full lotus contemplating his bedroom with its Star Wars<\/em> poster, D&D supplies and Spider-Man books, and includes a faux comics code stamp. These are somewhat misleading sales tools. Ruminations<\/em> by Ian Brunner does in fact quote H. P. Lovecraft, Madeleine L\u2019Engle, and others, but there are no Elder Gods, nor mentions of Star Wars<\/em> nor superheroes. The book is far more about a college student who loves such things trying to understand the magic of this world, and the pain of being a lonely fan. As a result, some poems are about the genre more than in the genre.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

when I was little the books I read
always had a protagonist with a friend.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I always had hope after every summer
\u201cMaybe this will be the year.\u201d
\u201cMaybe I won\u2019t be alone.\u201d<\/em> (19)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

There is, of course, metaphor that leans toward spec:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I know very few people who have managed
to keep their joy.
They are lanterns hanging
along the paths of life
to remind us that some of us do make i<\/em>t (26)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

And places that clearly go beyond the literal world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I have experienced hauntings
although, I may have been more of a ghost
than whatever haunting haunted me.<\/em> (28)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

But more than anything there is an embracing of the fannish manifesto:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cWeird at last,
weird at last.
God Almighty,
weird
at
last.\u201d<\/em> (29)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I particularly liked the word cloud poem \u201cEscapism,\u201d which is unquotable due to its form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The title of the collection is appropriate as the poet ruminates:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Science tells us that there are three dimensions and time but it also tells us that what we can see is less than five percent of the matter that makes up the universe.<\/em> (33)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

And perhaps pontificates:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

There is something other than what we can perceive and we\u2019re all searching for that other. The trick is to not lose the wonder of this world while wondering about the other.<\/em> (34)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In the end, I found moments of brilliance and pleasurable reading, but also passages that represent the treading of water that most of us do as we wait for maturity to arrive. I suspect that five years from now the author will realize that 25% of the words in this book didn\u2019t add to its strong parts. But those strong parts convince me that the author is worth reading. And I think he is likely to persevere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Herb Kauderer<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Secret Histories<\/em> by Michael McInnis.
(White Knuckle Press, 2017). 20 pp. Free online: whiteknucklepress.com\/michaelmcinnis<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is book number forty-four in White Knuckle Press\u2019s online mini-chapbook series. Each book is ten to fourteen prose poems, often accompanied by a quirky \u201cAuthor\u2019s Statement,\u201d bio, and cover. Most often the poems are titled, or at least numbered with Roman numerals, but in this collection the poems are unlabelled. I will use the Roman numeral convention even though they do not appear in the book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Secret Histories<\/em> is an interesting mix of the concrete, the surreal, and the metaphoric in a place that \u201creject[s] the dictatorship of reality,\u201d though portions seem solidly science fictional. For example, from poem I:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

We stood watching a new moon circling Jupiter. A screaming moon,
full of gadgetry and gimcrackery.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

And then the metaphoric kicks in as this from poem II:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

An angry comet, mad that it was nothing more than a dirty ice ball and vowing to do real damage some day if only it wasn\u2019t stuck in this orbit, scorched across the solar system.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

And the surreal from poem III:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

We no longer had a use for UFOs, magic bullets or string theory. Our
focus remained on Thoreau\u2019s pencils.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Poem VI is a delightful non-sequitur about the door-to-door exorcist. Somehow it fit perfectly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Overall, the book held together better than most books that are so amazingly free of writing and narrative rules as this one. I loved some of the individual poems, especially IX. But for me, the overall flow was jarred when the book abruptly broke off after XIII, which for me had no alliance with the established strings of mood, theme, and rhythm. It was the sensation of thinking there is one more stair in the staircase and stumbling over a landing that arrived a step too soon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I will not fret over the dissonant ending. I enjoyed too much of the book too much to quibble. This is a book of well under a thousand words, so, even going slowly to savor the language and imagery, it\u2019s still only a five minute read. For me, there was a strong return on investment. I will be looking for more from Michael McInnis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Herb Kauderer<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Strange Land<\/em> edited by Vertigo Xi\u2019an Xavier.
(Poet\u2019s Haven Press, 2017). 64 pages, wallet-sized. $8.00 US and Canada. boutique.poetshaven.com\/index.php?route=product\/product&product_id=139<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Poet\u2019s Haven Press occasionally dabbles in speculative works, including the 2014 Elgin 3rd Place collection Inhuman: Haiku from the Zombie Apocalypse<\/em> by Joshua Gage. Strange Land<\/em> is a thematic anthology, and also serves as The Poet\u2019s Haven Digest<\/em> #3.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Strange Land<\/em> contains 27 poems and 3 short stories about the view of earthlings by extraterrestrials. I suggest that this is also a subconscious metaphor for how those outside the SF field view those of us within. To make this viewpoint a few steps moreinteresting, the contributors are a mix of SF veterans and non-SF writers. The SF veterans include Joshua Gage, Mary A.Turzillo, Geoffrey A. Landis, Deborah Davitt, Herb Kauderer, M.X. Kelly, Brian Rosenberger, Mathias Jansson, Vince Gotera, and Rie Sheridan Rose. The \u201caliens\u201d are impactful poets from many places across the US, and also from England, Sweden, and South Africa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As expected, the results are a mix, with some lovely surprises. The argument in literary circles is that speculative fiction is written in code which acts as a membership handshake, and provides shortcuts and backgrounds for the \u201cin-group,\u201d and presentsan obstacle to the \u201cout-group.\u201d Some of the works here are writing without access to the codebook and therefore there are extra explanations, and times when well-used SF tropes are revealed with an expectation of freshness, most commonly the image of humans as children whom aliens need to punish\/elevate\/fix. But there are also times when this causes the re-examination of \u201cin-group\u201d SF, and I think that\u2019s a good thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In addition, placing veterans in proximity to outsiders highlights issues of accessibility. For example, the book opens with \u201c#GREENLIVESMATTER,\u201d a scifaiku suite by Joshua Gage. This is the sort of stuff I find pleasurably entertaining, with an occasional hidden needle to provoke thought. But it does appear written in code. I doubt that my clever eleven-year-old daughter would get much out of the ten ku, despite her wide reading in YA SF. For example:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

keg stand
a fratboy in greenface
holds her ankles<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

To be fair, there are cultural barriers as well as genre-code barriers in the ku.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The last poem in the book, \u201cJust a Stranger in a Strange Land,\u201d presents the counterargument for the insider\/outsider dichotomy. Lori Ann Kusterbeck is a mainstream poet without genre credits, and she has done a respectable job of creating a long poem out of Heinlein titles and quotes. Certainly this work has all the hallmarks of \u201cin-group\u201d work. So I have to ask if my daughter would understand:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

and when Starman Jones and the Farmer start spinnin\u2019 tales
we learn about the great Star Beast and the revolt in 2100
how the menace from earth and all of Methuselah\u2019s children
escaped from the black pits of Luna
only to cry\u2014\u201cwell, blowups happen\u201d
grumbles from the grave are all that\u2019s left.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Of course there have always been different levels of accessibility in the diversity of written SF. The point here is to note that the academic presumption of the barrier being generated by in-group creators does not hold true in this case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What\u2019s more, this is not to imply that poets (literary or SF) have not perpetrated \u201cliterary\u201d poems within the book. Mark Williams\u2019 \u201cGreeting\u201d certainly owes more to the beat poets than to SF. Geoff Landis and Melissa Mulvihill also present work more in the literary camp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a reader I have a special spot for works, SF or literary, that cause my world-view to shift. Given the theme of the anthology, it\u2019s no surprise that there are a good number of those, though none of the handful of poems involving recent politics did much to surprise. In terms of worldview shift Mary A. Turzillo\u2019s \u201cWhen the Aliens Come to Tea\u201d nicely and amusingly questions societal conventions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

We must pretend we live in arranged group marriages
in tents of fake plastic zebra skin.
We must invent creoles of obscure languages
and possibly communicate with scents
or with burps, or with LED screens glued to our chests.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Vince Gotera\u2019s \u201cAstro-Archaeologist\u2019s Log\u201d revised how I think of driving. \u201cAliens Come In Threes\u201d by Allen Ashley hit me with a few questions about what humanity really wants. I took a different view of naming things after reading \u201cInternational Star Registery [sic]\u201d by Jack Merrywell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The penultimate poem, \u201cMr. Allen\u2019s UFO\u201d by Bruce Deitrick Price, ends powerfully with:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I go to another world,
talk to gods, what does it
change? This is the life
you go on living.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

By now you have a clear idea of whether you want to visit these lands. I\u2019m pleased I took the trip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Herb Kauderer<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Through Immortal Shadows Singing<\/em> by Mari Ness.
(Papaveria Press, 2017) papaveria.com<\/a>. $4.99 Kindle, $9.99 paperback.
amazon.com\/Through-Immortal-Shadows-Singing-Mari-ebook\/dp\/B071711RSJ\/<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Few poets today seem willing to accept the challenge of the epic form, an admittedly daunting task; of those that do, fewer still can do so with the powerful delivery of Milton and combine it with with the elegance and grace of Sappho. One poet who does dare to rise to the challenge is Mari Ness, whose debut novella-in-verse, Through Immortal Shadows Singing<\/em>, published this April by Papaveria Press, emerges as a very enjoyable poetic journey through classic times. It is the story of Helen of Troy, as told through the eyes (and voice) of Helen herself. The voices of women are all too often absent or ignored in today\u2019s modern narrative and Ness demonstrates historical knowledge (and confidence in her poetic ability) as she adroitly imbues this Helen with a voice that is at once uniquely feminine and strong enough to echo across the millennia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the opening line \u2018My mother taught me the use of drugs \u2026\u2019 the reader is swept up in this enthralling re-telling of a classic tale, winding their way through a landscape carved from the mythology of the ancients. Ness brings this landscape to life with a quality of writing not usually witnessed in a writer\u2019s debut effort. Fresh and inventive in her use of metaphor and imagery, Ness submerges the reader in Helen\u2019s story of love and glory. Consider the following example:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201c\u2026 the waters tight about me,
like a newfound lover,
molding the river to my skin \u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Ness seems to have an ample supply of tools that poets value most, but most importantly she seems to be willing to take risks, all of which makes for heady brew of poetry. Consider the following description of her Helen:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026 I am abducted, abductor,
lover and wife, chaste
and whore.
About me coil
a thousand songs, a thousand lies,
and even this song may be a lie,
a song I whisper
to take command of my own tale \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Comparisons to Milton and Sappho aside, I cannot stress how impressed I am with this novella, particularly in light of the fact that it is a writer\u2019s first published effort. I look forward to hearing more from her in the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Join Mari Ness and Helen of Troy\u2014\u2018Child of thunder, child of swans<\/em>\u2019\u2014 on their journey through classic times and immortal lands as Helen takes command of her own tale.
You just might find yourself singing.
Highly recommended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014Daniel C. Smith<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Visions of the Mutant Rain Forest<\/em> by Bruce Boston & Robert Frazier.
Crystal Lake Publishing, 2017. 245 pp. $3.99 ebook. CrystallakePub.com<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over the years, Bob Frazier and Bruce Boston have written poems and short stories set in the mutant rain forest, a fantastic place of dangerous wildlife, both animal and vegetable. Visions of the Mutant Rain Fores<\/em>t brings that narrative together, a history in prose and poem of what happens when nature\u2019s limits are not just exceeded, but torn apart. The book contains 8 stories and 39 poems, some written in collaboration, some by Boston or Frazier alone. I\u2019ll focus in this review on the verse. Full disclosure: I\u2019ve published poems by both of these authors in Dreams and Nightmares.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From \u201cNight Fishing on the Caribbean Littoral\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I\u2019ve heard a Carib whisper of stunted duendes,
hairy four-fingered throwbacks who fly the canopy,
fleeting as ghosts, and \u201ccut de t\u2019umbs of de unwary,\u201d
because \u201cdey so bad wanna be like us, mon.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I could have sworn that the Carib were exterminated long ago, but perhaps I am mistaken. Be that as it may, this account of a foray in questionable company, and perhaps straying a little too close to the mutant rain forest, takes the narrator into a sea where he can\u2019t depend on natural law, known fact, or anything else. The rain forest spreads its arms and lunacy flourishes in its shadow. Human devolution is accompanied by every kind of evolutionary change that\u2019s possible, but magnified and accelerated beyond all possibility of humanity to deal with it, or even apprehend it. Here, we doesn\u2019t have to wait for bacteria to carry genes from a squirrel to a rat, or from maize to dandelions, one by one. Any two or more species can form chimeras, any can borrow traits and organs, capabilities and aspects, from any other. And they do. Visions of the Mutant Rain Forest are dark, as befits a book based on the (only slightly) outlandish idea that, one way or another, for our cavalier treatment of the planet there\u2019ll be hell to pay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From \u201cPhantom Limb\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Flesh made of wingless bees
A skin of interlocking mites
In this way he strides home
On the rebirth of his sole<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Some few do leave, returning, if not to sanity or normalcy, at least to humanity\u2019s realm. There\u2019s plenty of irony in Visions, but little out-and-out humor. So I hope you at least let out a chuckle. If this is the exception that proves the rule, what is the rule? Life may be grim, but it is surprising and wonderful as well. Keep your eyes open, and be ready to offer up far more than most would expect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From \u201cA Gourmand of the Mutant Rain Forest\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

the pains which
rack his portly belly
do not lessen his desire
for spiny bone-white guavas
seasoned with banana moss.
The rash of radiation welts
which erupts upon his chest,
his throat and forearms,
does not delay his hunt
for the perfect table red<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

These poems are rife with imagery, as if attempting to capture on the page an ecosystem so complex and so unfamiliar that one book is not enough. Which is nothing but the truth. How much has been written about the mundane rain forest? Do we understand it yet? This poem is one of the few in Visions of the Mutant Rain Forest<\/em> that does not take place in or adjacent to the forest itself. The gourmand has illicit rain-forest products imported to his home in a domed city. The domes are the only bastions of safety that remain in a world wracked by pollution. But what do the elites do? Perhaps it\u2019s a form of cabin fever. Some explore the rain forest, usually coming to bad ends. Others bring the rain forest to them, with equally problematic results. This poem reminds me of Tim Powers\u2019 Dinner at Deviant\u2019s Palace,<\/em> which features a dinner of similarly dangerous treats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frazier and Boston are doing the kind of worldmaking that usually calls for a novel. Or three. Imagine that trilogy torn apart, and most of it recycled. This is what\u2019s left. Images, scenes, and sequences sampling a fecund world not so much mad, but alien. One senses that there are rules, there are reasons for trees with faces, cats with words, carnivorous butterflies, and so on, but we don\u2019t know them. We can\u2019t. They\u2019re changing too fast for that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, I\u2019m thinking that before it\u2019s too late, you should buy this book. It won\u2019t help you navigate a natural disasterscape, but it might help you prepare for one emotionally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u2014David C. Kopaska-Merkel<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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This page contains reviews of books, chapbooks, anthologies, and collections containing or related to poetry within the SF\/F\/H\/spec genres. Books on this page were published in 2017. Astropoetry by Christina Sng.(Alban Lake, 2017). 45 pp. Paper $6.00, digital $1.99. A Collection of Nightmares by Christina Sng.(Raw Dog Screaming Press, 2017). 88 pp. Paper $10.95 digital $4.99. One […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":994,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"pagelayer_contact_templates":[],"_pagelayer_content":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1299","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1299","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1299"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1299\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1300,"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1299\/revisions\/1300"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/994"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfpoetry.org\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1299"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}