Oh man, sorry about no Sunday post. Once I got back from Long Beach, my day became a series of naps and episodes of Metalocalypse. But I’m back today, right? I decided to use a poem today that I came across in The Best American Poetry 2010. For anybody out there interested in learning about some of the poetry currently being written in this country, the yearly anthology series is a friendly place to start.
Today’s poem is by Bob Hicok, a former teacher at my alma mater (though I couldn’t get into his workshop due to underclassmen late-ass registration requirements). One of my favorite aspects of Hicok’s poetry is his ability to use humor in his verse without it feeling forced or tired. Anyway, here you go.
The Cunning Optimism of Language
by Bob Hicok
She made me Overlord of the Sewers.
It was a quiet ceremony before bed, consisting of,
you are Overlord of the Sewers. I’m unsure
what my powers are, though clearly absolute,
I thought as we kissed good night. Waking
in this state, I found coffee tasted the same.
I’ve left a note to my underlings: make
everything better. I’m particularly curious
about raisin bread. How can raisin bread
be improved? Not the cheap shit
but the good stuff. This is love, I tell you,
the random bestowal of a title. Anything else
is fraudulent. Now you have something, sort of
like a tag, by which to gauge if your love is real.
As our beds will tell you, do not remove the tag
under penalty of law. Such stern cops, our beds.
Go to sleep, they tell us, make love, they tell us,
die. If your lover makes you Overlord, don’t ask,
of what? These are one-time offers, I fear,
just as the lightbulb that burned out
last night gets one chance to fail.
I have these minutes, all these chances to fail,
I must be many lightbulbs. It’s well-lit
except in the corners, this life.
I love the conversational tone of Hicok. It seems like a far cry from the vaunted language of some of the more stereotypically “poetic” poets. Hicok goes a bit of the Hemingway or William Carlos Williams route by using casual language to discuss events and themes are great importance, probably. There’s a certain mystery in everyday language here. Is it all tongue-in-cheek, or is there some larger matter beneath the crust of the raisin bread? Are you comfortable accepting both?
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