I spent part of my weekend on Governor’s Island, attending the New York Poetry Festival for the first time. I went for my friend Alex, who is a member of the Los Angeles-based Infinite Poets collective; her book is a gem, just like she is, and the affirmations in the back are the only positivity mantras I’ve ever encountered that I find genuinely useful. My favorites are copied into my planner so I can have a little bit of Alex’s reassuring presence wherever I go.
While I was waiting for the Infinite Poets reading to start, I wandered the festival grounds for a while. Imagine a music festival with different stages, all featuring different bands. But instead it’s poets. You move away from one stage, someone’s breakup poem fades out, and as you approach another stage, a poem about redwood forests creeps in.
There were also a lot of booths/tables set up at the festival, and THAT is where I got into trouble. I was walking past a particular booth when I realized that all the books looked familiar. I walked up to the publicist running it and asked, “Hey, did you guys publish A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon?”
Yes! Yes, Wave Books did publish that book, and also another favorite of mine, Dunce! Now that I know, the monochromatic covers will be a dead giveaway forever and ever (be warned, though, hardcovers are usually jewel-toned). Because they were having a special BOGO sale, I didn’t feel guilty about bringing home two souvenirs. The first I picked on girth/title alone: What is poetry? (Just kidding, I know you know): Interviews from The Poetry Project Newsletter (1983–2009). For the second pick, I asked the publicist to recommend me something based on the poets I enjoy, and she said I should read New Life, which I’ve seen a fair degree of social media buzz about.
Today’s poetry post is about the title track. Ahem. I mean, today’s poetry post is about the second poem in the book, from which the collection gets its title. I feel that it is vital I mention to you this book is the IDEAL size for your cat to sit on. Dottie has been protectively curling her little paws around it between bouts of me reading in bed.
New Life
Ana Božičević
I think about it
Every day
To just leave
And start life among some
Other people, in a little town
In the middle of America.
I would tell them
My name was...whatever,
Think of some random name
And say it.
I'd work in a diner
Put out the pie coffee
And burgers at the counter
The echo of
Great cities where
Everyone I ever loved
Everyone who ever hurt me
Anyone I ever hurtèd
Wouldn't reach.
Lost among fields
And mountains and highways
I wouldn't have anything
Much, unknown and safe
In witness protection
From crimes of the heart
Outside the merciless glare
Of my story
That blinds me
Bumps into me
Always spinning so I
See the back of her head
And her face all at once,
The one that tells me:
You failed to live me
Sang off tune
Like a shitty orchestra
And that's why
No one loves you enough
To stay!
Shut up Ana, I would say
The name's Linda.
Okay, so, first of all, this is a masterclass in punctuation. There are two instances that stand out to me as obvious examples. The very gentle emphasis of “hurted” as “hurtèd,” the delicate deployment of an accent mark like a sticker of a sprinkle. It seems like the most logical choice and still, somehow, the most creative one. Just beautifully done, no notes.
My second note re: punctuation requires me to divulge information which may be harmful to some readers. I, Hattie Jean Hayes, do not believe the Oxford comma1 is as vital as many of my peers do. I think that, like certain male comedians, the Oxford comma has a few loud obnoxious horny fans and a silent majority of vindicated haters. Except in extreme circumstances where a broad range of list entries necessitates the comma as a clarifying agent, the Oxford comma breaks syntactic flow and makes a sentence cumbersome. If you need to unsubscribe from this newsletter because I hold this opinion, I will understand and respect your decision. I will not mock you publicly or privately.
Now, THAT. THAT! is why I l-o-v-e and a-d-o-r-e the lines which read “Put out the pie coffee/And burgers at the counter” toward the top of this poem. Božičević eschews the Oxford comma AND any other comma! To great effect! It suggests an urgency in the on-page action or, if you choose my reading, it transforms the meaning. It’s not just coffee. It’s pie coffee. That is, coffee which belongs to and is intended for pie. You know the coffee I mean! Twin Peaks has been around for thirty years, dammit! And invoking this particular breed of diner, this place where there is coffee and there is pie coffee, puts us squarely in the place where our poem’s speaker is/isn’t. We immediately find ourselves in a subjunctive small town that exists in real life and also this speaker’s imagination.
The enjambment helps a lot, too. Look at this section: "I wouldn't have anything/Much, unknown and safe/In witness protection” is a great sentiment. But the enjambment isolates that center sentiment – “Much, unknown and safe” – and is that not the driving impetus behind the speaker’s desire to leave? Were she to run away, her history of breaking/broken hearts, hurting/hurtéd, would no longer be associated with her name. It would be "unknown” and therefore “safe,” and we know there is much of it. This is craft under a microscope. It’s a tiny choice with a lot of impact. It creates double meaning in the poem even if you read it without an analytical framework at the front of your mind. That is to say, it’s doing what good poetry does.
The poem has such a strong balance of self-laceration and playful banter. It's rooted in the heavy nebula of fantasy, which does not require realism ("My name was...whatever"). I love the way Božičević characterizes her speaker's disappointment. "You failed to live me," comes the accusation, "Sang off tune/Like a shitty orchestra/And that's why/No one loves you enough/To stay!" But before the accusation can really sting, this version of Božičević has also left. She’s Linda now. This final turn strikes me as weirdly hopeful. “No one loves you enough/To Stay!”? Hmm, perhaps. Or maybe it is better to leave someone who loves the wrong way – through blame and criticism – than it is to stay and mine art from the suffering.
not the Vampire Weekend song though. THAT Oxford Comma freakin’ rocks. [sunglasses emoji] Lets do karaoke