Can't say my review of it will be as well written or entertaining as this book of 50 poems by Daryl Gussin. Daryl is the managing editor of Razorcake. Daryl was in an awesome punk band called God Equals Genocide. Daryl is my friend but also possibly my spirit animal. Part of me wonders if the leather jacket that Daryl is looking for is the same jacket I’ve been looking for. It probably is and I hope he finds it.
I’ve never written about poetry before but I’ve written a lot of lyrics and wondered if anyone considers that poetry. Who am I to judge when I don’t know what poetry is? I did take one poetry class in uni where I submitted prose poetry that I’d written while black out drunk, something I was working on at the time. Lacking m/any historical or contemporary references with which to compare this, Gussin’s work reminds me of Raymond Carver who is known for his mastery of short stories. So what's the difference between prose poetry and a short story? Or what about lyrics vs. poem? Daryl has written lyrics for the aforementioned GEG along with Spokenest and Marriage Material- all fucking awesome bands worth checking out!- but I did not notice a single rhyming couplet in this book so I would not describe this poetry as lyrical. In lieu of knowing how to finish this review I’ve picked out a handful of my favourite lines from the book and pasted them below, inadvertently (or maybe advertently?) creating a “cut-up” poem of my own. Clever indeed.
“Boyfriend” Is A Top Notch Poem By Daryl Gussin The Following Is Not
The two friends were frozen in terror as they looked through the curtains out onto the opposite side of the street as a storm drain mouth with two parking meter eyes was deeply inhaling, only to spray sewer water and street-trash across the entire block, “I’m not your fuckin’ white noise machine!”
That is my fear, I refuse to be the distant childhood memory in the mind of an adult, I have to survive this life.
But not today, today I’m free to dream while I breathe the untaxed air, and live the dignity we all had been taught to expect, I must remember to relish this moment, ‘cause tomorrow the shit must be shoveled, and I am the shit shoveler.
We wake up and we take one for the team, and then we get one from the team, anyone getting more than they’re giving is just taking extra from someone else on the team, fuck that.
if you don’t get laid you should get at least 35% of what you paid back on a hotel room, we associate hotels with the absolute best sex and we are not wrong,
If you ever wanna be happy to be home, be happy to take a shower, be happy to lay on your bed in your underwear while your girlfriend puts her head on your shoulder, one way is obviously going to war or prison, but damn, you can also just spend two days on a fuckin’ bus.
The rain on the leaves, the barbecue in the backyard, the taste of a new lover’s neck, the feeling of recently purchased underwear, these experiences will never affect the exchange of stocks, will never satisfy the bloodthirsty viewers of the twenty-four hour news cycle, will do very little for those with their snake oil market analytics, but they will make your day better, your life better, your outlook on the future brighter, embrace the brighter future, embrace the goosebumps and the butterflies, the lightening bugs and uncontrollable smiles as your eyes meet, let the parallel universes live their parallel lives and accept this one for what it has to offer: a poem, a party, and then one final kiss good night.
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