Review: Into the River Somewhere, by Mark Jackley

Mark Jackley’s latest chapbook, Into the River Somewhere, exemplifies the simplicity of the everyday through vignettes of insightfulness.  It is a collection of little gems clearly composed by someone who is not only a keen observer of life’s minutia, but also a participant in its necessary and, at times, beautifully mundane tasks.  In poems like “Locks” and “In a Diner a Middle-Aged Couple Runs out of Things to Say,” Jackley poignantly tackles the perils of mature relationships and conversely, in poems like “Fatalities,” he laments connections that never were.  Through a series of seemingly personal poems, Jackley taps into our collective (and oftentimes minor) sufferings, the universals of human existence.

His “daughter poems,” touching in their emotional evocations and imagistic flourishes – in one instance, a crayon drawing described as an “an apple tree/aswirl” – also manage to match the wryness of the opening poem (“Locks”) with their well-timed, finely executed “punch lines.”  Other favorites in the collection are the flippant “Why I Ate the Chocolate Bar,” a poem reminiscent of William Carlos Williams’ masterpiece “This is Just to Say” (the one about the plum) in its insincere apologetics and sarcastic tone.  In his poem “To the Hobo,” the speaker concludes that the irreverent bird-flipping bum is, in fact, Whitmanesque in his self-absorption.  Though most collections of American verse pay homage to the fathers of modern poetics, doing so, oftentimes, through the evocation of some form of “tradition” (be it diction, structure, motif, etc.), Jackley’s poems only invoke their essences, making his collection new as well as relevant to a broader readership.

Another poem worth noting is the hauntingly beautiful elegy “What You Are.”  Within its twelve lines, the speaker catalogues a series of still, stark objects that his deceased friend is not, thus creating a kind of anti-catalogue that never quite arrives at the certainty suggested by the title.  The poem, due to its opening line, is marked by tentativeness and doubt, the only tell-tale markers of elegy found within its lines.  In a brief moment of certainty near the end of the poem, the speaker proclaims that she (the subject of his elegy) is not “[his] stumbling tongue,” thus completing this unique process of eulogy by negation.

The final poem, “One Rainy Christmas, Alone, I Went to 7-11,” deftly transforms the mundane into the “lovely” while also invoking the stillness of Buddhism, something that readers might retrospectively recognize as being woven throughout the entirety of the collection.  The convenient store scene, a recreation replete with speechless customers making “small purchases” ranging from “fake firewood” to “a bar of soap,” is, according to the speaker, a model of “Zen efficiency.”  The elements that comprise the poem, unusual in their ordinariness, craft a wonderfully realistic space – one in which the speaker, instead of critiquing the abounding consumerism, revels in the small pleasures of life and the spirit of persistence.

Mark Jackley’s poems have long been a favorite of the everyday reader.  He seems to be one of several contemporary poets who understands the importance of audience (specifically of having one) and accessibility, a term that should not harbor negative connotations so long as the verse is poignant and the poet’s use of language skilled.  Into the River Somewhere does not disappoint in this regard, and readers should look forward to more to come from this witty poet who pauses to reflect on the minutia in this ever-increasingly, convoluted world.

Mark Jackley’s latest chapbook, Into the River Somewhere, is available from Finishing Line Press.  Visit their catalog on the web at http://www.finishinglinepress.com/catalog.htm.

RD, editor

 

January 2008

The Copper Star Poetry Series, featuring monthly poetry readings by established and emerging Arizona poets, conducted its inaugural reading on Wednesday, January 16th, 2008 at Copper Star Coffee in Phoenix, AZ.  The reading began at 7 p.m. and featured David Chorlton, Nadine Lockhart, and myself, the founders and organizers of the new reading series.

David Chorlton, Nadine Lockhart, and I – a triad of self-proclaimed poetic purists – will continue to serve as the hosts and promoters of the event.  Our sincere hope is that we can generate enough interest to maintain the monthly readings, possibly expanding the series to include workshops and occasional "festivals."  Like me, my cohorts are passionate about art and poetry, and though we're jaded enough to accept the fact that little of what we do will rattle the establishment, we still believe in the power of grassroots movements; thus, we envision this series as an opportunity to revive culture, craft, and poetic morality -- a kind of Whitmanesque love of nature, self, and humanity.

RD, editor

 

July 2007

After a long hiatus (due to the editor’s dissertation defense) and some staff changes, Merge is proud to announce the long awaited summer ‘07 issue.  Merge will also be returning to its originally intended quarterly schedule, meaning that our readers will be enjoying new poetic and artistic content, both in print and on the web, every three months.

Look for our fall issue, featuring artist Alexander Scott Hughes, in mid October.  We will be reviewing poetry submissions for the fall issue through the month of July, so please consult our submissions page for more information.

Our Gallery page continues to feature past and present cover art, as well as artwork that has appeared within the main text of the print version of Merge.  Interested artists should consult the submissions page for more information.

Thank you for your continued support of Merge. 

RD, editor

 

March 2007

Some Thoughts on Modern Poetics
                                                                                                                                         
Confessional verse has a new conscience, or perhaps scholars have begun to recognize the conscience that was always there, the one that readers have obviously recognized for generations.  Suddenly, confessional verse, especially that which is written by traditionally “othered” figures, has assumed a communal consciousness, airing the grievances of a gender, sub-culture or interest group, confessing their collective sins or even the transgressions committed against them by mainstream society.  Though it’s perhaps less sensational than the beautifully crafted, aesthetic antics of Sexton, it, too, has a substantial readership.

So the question remains: do the processes of revision modernize the techniques and genres of the past, thus making them new, i.e. modern?  It seems that poets are perpetually re-envisioning the modes of their predecessors, making them relevant to a contemporary readership, a phenomenon that, I would argue, has occurred on a grand scale with the poetry of Langston Hughes.  Spoken word poetry, born out of urban angst and passion, undeniably has its roots in the cadenced, cultural verse of the Harlem Renaissance.  With regard to much of the verse written today, orality is preferred to print, the be-bop rhythmical word-play of the beats (and even Stein) taking on new appeal and amassing a new generation of devotees.  The narrative poem, traditionally more rural and thematically antithetical to the urban chant, has even begun to appear more frequently as prose, as something more easily read aloud than some of its verbose predecessors. 

I must admit that what is privileged by the audience may not necessarily be privileged by editors, but what reader doesn’t desire startling imagery, playful and innovative juxtapositions of words, poetry of social import?  As long as one of my senses is tantalized – whether by the sweetness of a long vowel in just the right location or a cosmic chant that strokes the remoter corners of the brain – and as long as it’s not simply a reproduction of the past, then it’s worth at least one round in print.

RD, editor