Ben Lerner (Copper Canyon, 2004). I'm glad I re-read this one. I remember how much this struck me; reading a few poems the prodigious talent is evident, in a mode similar to what a lot of people were doing post-flarf, with humorous non-sequiturs, but better than that. Reading too many of the poems all together the brilliance dissipates a bit, as you see how easy it is for him to write like this. But still...
I blogged about my original impression of the book. I crushed an anonymous commentator who wanted to shit on the book. This person had the audacity to call me a dick when he was the one who used the asinine expression "kiddie-pool deep."
1 comment:
"... of my early work, a critic has said: It was open, so I let myself in." That's exactly how I felt reading Lerner for the first time. Him and Tost and Greenstreet are what I think of when I think contemporary American poetry. I agree that there are hints of flarf. I like to call it "anti-palinurian". I've also thought I detected the influence of Patchen once in Lerner. But that's probably a Borgesian precursor.
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