Sixty Poems

Charles Simic- the 2007 Poet Laureate- is a Serbian born American poet, whose work has rightly been described as visceral. Take his poem The Melon, in which Mimic's stark, emotive images cut like a knife: There was a melon fresh from the garden So ripe a knife slurped As it cut into six slices. The children were going back to school. Their mother, passing out paper plates, Would not live to see the leaves fall. I remember a hornet, too, that flew in Through the open window Mad to taste the sweet fruit While we ducked and screamed, Covered our heads and faces, And sat laughing after it was gone. Here with the use of a few images: a melon, knife, hornet, paper plates, autumn leaves, a loving mother, ducking and screaming individuals, Simic gives us a touching tale about the cycles-of-life. The poem is both ambitious in scope and powerful in purport. The poem opens with the dark imagery of a man-made knife slicing, slurping through a juicy, ripe piece of fruit. The reader is let in on this simple domestic scene, only to learn that the scene's protagonist is, unbeknownst to her, living out the last summer of her life. As a reader, you are left only to wrangle, cringe, and fear for what will become of her charmingly oblivious young children. The autumnal imagery of leaves falling, placed at the end of the first and opening stanza, exacerbates our grief for the family. The spring imagery and buzzing hornet, which open the second and final stanza, taunt the reader- in light of what we know. The "open window" offers not the palliative freedom it should. The ducking, screaming, and laughing individuals evoke empathy for the children. The children's innocence pulls at the heartstrings. What will become of these motherless children? We are reminded of how we may be like the cowering individuals, hiding from the hornet's sting- life, all around us, buzzing, leaving us to react in our all-to-human, funny, and clueless ways. We live on, utterly unaware of the grand life force zooming onward in some realm above our heads, and what these forces may mean for those things we hold close. All-the-while, we do only that which seems natural: cover our heads and faces, and laugh. Visceral, stark, full of meaning- Mimic's poetry provokes, enchants, tugs, and sings. One wonders how a Serbian can have embraced with such sweetness a language not his own. His poetry, however, is so touching, as a reader, you won't stop to wonder for long; instead, Mimic's poems will propel you onward and inward, into a state where the only sensible thing to do is to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Simic has a quirky style. If you like quirk you may like this. Some profanity.

The book was received in excellent condition. Shipping was fairly quick. I have read many of the poems -- and enjoyed them. Simic is a contemporary master.