So Much Noise. by Marc Pietrzykowski
79 pages – $10.00
More poems about piffy, ferns, consultancy, Kentucky, crayons, and gristle. These poems are sneaky, carefully measured, narrative but layered, lyrical but possessive. Or possessed, but by someone nice and not at all demonic, except when the wind blows. Feathered, though not like 80s hair. Full of vim.
Where do we put them? In a genealogy? In a drawer?
I Can Hear Her Bones Growing, or Cracking
America always tries too hard, chewing
with her mouth open,
walking her huge, stupid dogs
right down the middle of the street,
letting them shit just anywhere.
Like a trumpet solo in C sharp
when C would do just as fine, thank you,
like the idea of soloing in the first place,
like Miles Fucking Davis, trying
way too hard, trying to be cool
while the veins in his neck and head
swole up like a garden hose
after the tap gets flipped and the water
flows. She tries too hard and then
says things like, “better to have tried too hard
than not tried at all,” as though she
was Caesar, prescribing the bounds
of logic with a sweep of the hand. Laughing
too loud, snorting, the guffaw
is an American invention. I can’t do much more
than say I love you, you big, goofy,
toothsome girl, and how strange it is
to feel older than one’s parent. I only hope
that yours are the pains of adolescence
and not the onset of early dementia.
Official Publication Date: Nov 19th, 2016