American Book Review

Phill Provance’s first full-length collection of poems will convince you that you are reading a poet with at least a few poetry collections behind him. [End Page 157] Though the poems narrate a kind of bildungsroman, the poetry is not weighed down with lessons for the reader, because the poet knows that whatever there is for his reader to learn, it must be taught through experience, and Provance’s work glows with its wisdom.

These poems burn slowly. You will think about them and come back to his poetry, not because the work is comforting, but because these poems reveal a beautiful world within the dark doldrums in which most of us find ourselves more often than we willingly admit. You will return to the poems because you can commiserate with their reality, one complicated by doubt and suffering and reaffirmed through compassion, love, and art.

The poet divides the book into three parts: “Going Out,” “Going Under,” and “Coming In.” These sections reflect the collection’s speaker emerging as a poet and person, contending with obstacles as he finds his place in the world, and finally the speaker’s coming to understand his existence as a writer, a father, as a person who emerges from struggle, not because he is a poet but because that is what it means to live. In the space of just seventy-nine pages, Provance cleverly combines formalism and free verse to convey his speaker’s struggle.

Part 1, “Going Out,” demonstrates the poet’s wide range of influences, including poets like Catullus, Marie de France, and Plath, but Provance does not simply reference these poets for authority; instead, he reenvisions and selects from their poetic palettes to create something new from them. In “Gen Y Love Poem” the reader hears Plathian echoes, but this serves as a backdrop to the poem’s irony, which is the material from which the poet builds: “When I text you, / Platonic kissy face, rest / assured I do not / mean, I love you, so much / as I love the halfhearted / ironic gesture.” These gestures abound and make the poems that much more enjoyable. Likewise, in a “A New Kind of Vegan” Provance depends on an extended metaphor throughout the poem to discuss the way readers nourish themselves on the poet’s product. He sees himself as much of a work of art as his poetry, and he goes so far as to claim a position among those products: “Most of my words are / a kind of salt. I am / mostly a lettuce.” His penchant for apt metaphor makes the poem and the collection a joy to read. There is a lot to learn and enjoy throughout the book, including the poet’s ear for music and his ability to conjure images that remain with his reader long after the poems have been read. [End Page 158]

Part 2, “Going Under,” combines misadventure with poems that are almost surreal in their balance of beauty, empathy, and violence. The poet places “Snapchat Triolet” toward the beginning of the section, juxtaposing a traditional form against the coming-of-age tradition of partying. The poem’s commentary on cycles of drug abuse, addiction, teenage self-destruction, and decay resonate with the poem’s reimagined refrains: “they finally tore down the house. On West Church / all you see by the overgrown birch / are scaly tar shingles on one rotted rafter.” In such a small space, the reader experiences the loss of innocence and the inevitable loss of youth’s wilder days. In contrast, “Gein” places a serial killer within everyday experiences. This poem allows the reader to encounter its subject with an empathic eye and stands out as an exemplar of Provance’s ability to create voices that expand one’s sense of empathy. This only adds to the fun of the poems.

Meanwhile, the poet keeps his reader’s mind engaged in a poetry of game...