Thursday, November 29, 2007



Document by Ana Bozicevic-Bowling
(Octopus Books, Lincoln, Nebraska, 2007)

There are books you open & then there are books you open. Ana Bozicevic-Bowling's Document is a small booklet stapled to a bonzai-sized document folder. It's lovely. Apart from the esthetics of it, it makes me think about opening & reading. & about travel (& migration). The ones european authorities & media like to call illegals, or illegal imigrants, arrive without so called travel documents (passports & whatnot) simply because they know it's the only, if exceedingly slim, chance they have of not being immediately sent back. I am, however, not sure of the durability. I sense a future need to re-string the folder.

On now to what's inside.

I have a feeling others will compare her poems to other american poets. Sure, one or two may spring to mind. But. I see this belgian heathen showing up at various street corners. He goes by the name of Hugo Claus. Why? There's something in the atmosphere. In the elegant brutality of several phrases among these twelve poems, of which two by the way pose as epilogues. In the suspicion that nothing is impossible or even very difficult if she sets her mind to it. There's also a great deal of pitch-black humour at play, or is that just me being brutal?
                At earth's center a certain
someone discovers then forgets the function of arms

on a clock. You?
(from Light is the first animal of the visible)

How is their face different from a castle? Which
is constructed? Which legendary?
(from Legal Counsel)

If so, then so be it. There is also a sense that something is lost. It's never stated. Of course. Ana knows better than that. & her poems know better than to be simple elegies. Elegiac, yes, at times. As the end of "Rhode Island," the opening poem
And morningly
nebulae, red-throated
typestrokes of

visit the shrine

(to view the film
of a coat, departing.)

Ah, but there's so much to say about this Document. But I will jump aboard the coat & leave you, hopefully, curious at the quay.


Lars Palm apparently sometimes writes reviews. his most recent poetry publications are some hay (Meritage Press Tiny Book no. 5, 2007), ten poems in the latest issue of Otoliths & (biotech), say (what?) a long poem in PFS Post. he has plans for the future, they involve translations &, hopefully, cats. just so you know.

No comments: