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Overview
Suffused in psychology, uncertainty, and desire, Michael Bazzett’s The Interrogation is an unsparingly honest catechism of the self. In the title poem, a speaker—at once questioner and questioned—insistently asks: Who? What? Where? Why? Why our cruelty? Why our loneliness? And how do we connect?
These poems read like disorienting fables and seemingly familiar folktales. In them, we are escorted to dreamlike cities, brought into the rich earth under a simple mattress, and drawn inside the mind, where “Nobody fails at meditation / like I do.”
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9781571319623 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Milkweed Editions |
Publication date: | 10/05/2021 |
Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
Format: | eBook |
Pages: | 120 |
File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
At Half-Island
At Half-island, slate-gray water breaks
over rock and plasters
weeds like hair against the granite
It has been this way for years
the sea always swelling
the tides in flux
the breathing of the world
And anyone who pauses to sit
and watch the sea do its work
will feel a deep-breathing swell
slowly fill
the channels of their body
*
When the tide left the orca
slack on the rock
the men went out in tall oyster-boots
to take its teeth
They had a fine-gauge blade
for the enamel
Each tooth worn and grooved
as wood
a single one would fill your palm
with its heft
like an old flint-knife
found in a cave
*
One look at the angled whale
said something
was lodged in its belly
and soon the men
were cursing and gawping
as they pulled
the better part
of a moose out
including one
fine-hoofed foreleg
folded neat
as a camp-chair
and half a rack
of splintered antler
* I could see it then:
The wild-eyed moose
jolted in its crossing
as the water
swelled fat and black around his churning
then dragged quickly down
to be bolted
in torn hunks
where the broken
antler did its piercing work
and the orca’s dark
life drained slowly
into its own belly
*
Maybe it is already
too late to talk
about appetite
or how we live
with rock and water
yet listen to neither
or how we cannot recognize
ourselves when delivered
ourselves through signs
as when our souls
take the form of gulls
crying again and again
the one
sharp word
we all have in common —
* * *
Other Names for Fire
for Mark Leidner
1. Kiss-me-not.
2. Sunlight released from the prison of the tree.
3. Rust on meth.
4. Creature made of tongue and wing.
5. Naughty flower.
6. Soul of the coal.
7. He who grows hungrier the more he’s fed.
8. East European candle blossom.
9. Fool’s lightning.
10. A single neuron sizzling in the mind of the Sun.
11. Hell’s shag carpeting.
12. A chandelier of lickings.
13. Idiot’s lip-gloss.
14. Spicy cousin to the comet.
15. Bourbon of the Air.
16. Electricity’s nonchalant cousin visiting from Texas.
17. Lucifer’s bouquet.
18. The cave-dancer’s doppelgänger.
19. The glint in the eye of the gun.
20. Yellow hat, orange shirt, red pants, blue shoes.
* * *
The Meat of It
To make a good book you need what William
Faulkner called “the raw meat on the floor.”
So before I started in I got some ground beef
and dropped it on the hardwood with a Spat!
It felt wrong. Like dropping a baby. But I did it
for art. When my son came home from school
he said, Why is there meat on the floor? I said,
Art. He nodded like maybe that made sense
and said, It’s kind of freaking me out. I know,
I said, me too. We all have to make sacrifices.
Is that blood leaking out or juice? he asked.
I’m not sure I’m one to make that distinction,
I said, mostly to avoid answering the question.
I didn’t tell him how strange it was to unwrap
the meat so carefully, the plastic peeling away
like a onesie on a warm day, and then just sort
of hurl it down at the hardwood with a Spat!
Are we still going to eat it? he asked after a bit.
I’m not sure, I said. I think it depends upon
a lot of different factors, a lot of ins and outs.
Is this a writing thing? he asked, because you
have that weird look in your eye. I’m your
father, I said. I held you as a baby. I’d never
use a moment like this just to make a poem.
Table of Contents
ContentsCruelty
I
The City
At Night
Nowhere
At Half-Island
The Central Registry
Ithaca
They Held It in Their Hands
The Unnerving Thing
The Cellar
Everybody
Sunflowers
Okay
The Subterranean
II
The Dawdler
The Interrogation
In the Himalayas
The Earth Inside
The Silence
The Man with No Mouth
The Matrons
There Are Things We Cannot See
Moles
My Body Is Not an Axe
Nobody Fails at Meditation
On the One Hand
To the Woman Drinking Three Gin&Tonics
III
The Phone Call
Lazarus
The Birth
When He Was A Boy
The Fable of the Man
Early November
Country Squire Landscape Services
Hold Me
IV
Confessions
The Handshake
Island
Other Names for Fire
The Fact
The Mechanic
The Encounter
Rain
Last Exit
The Telepathic Heart
For the Person I Have Not Met
On the Subway
Miles
Gag
I Went to the Market
The Book of My Life
V
[ the words I have not written ]
They
The Meat of It
In the Book
The Hole
The Little Things
The Monster
The Two of Us
Almost Invisible
The Light
The Plot
Acknowledgments