Damnatio Memoriae is the third full-length book of poems by award-winning author, Michael Meyerhofer. Poet Mary Biddinger says, of the twist, the patron saint of lines embodying equal parts comedy and poignancy."Michael Meyerhofer is the master of the twist, the patron saint of lines embodying equal parts comedy and poignancy."
I'm the author of the Dragonkin Trilogy, a dark/epic fantasy series. The first book, WYTCHFIRE, also won the Whirling Prize and was a Readers Choice nomination by Big Al's Books and Pals. The sequels, KNIGHTSWRATH and KINGSTEEL, are both available now, as well, with an additional series in the works.
I've also published a few poetry books. My latest is WHAT TO DO IF YOU'RE BURIED ALIVE. Previous poetry books are DAMNATIO MEMORIAE (lit. "damned memory", winner of the Brick Road Poetry Book Contest), BLUE COLLAR EULOGIES (Steel Toe Books), and LEAVING IOWA (winner of the Liam Rector First Book Award). I was also happy to have my poem, "For My Brother," featured in Goodreads' June 2014 newsletter. For more information and at least one embarrassing childhood photo, please visit wytchfire.com (fantasy) or troublewithhammers.com (poetry).
Michael Meyerhofer knows his way around a poem. His lines are spare and graceful and evocative, never showy, never trying to dazzle the reader with virtuosity (although it's there), but always quietly drawing her in, as if to say, "Here--look at this. There's more to it than meets the eye." Here, for example, in "Poem Written on the Second Sunday in May, Thirteen Years after My Mother's Death", a few delicate lines say so much, the visual images telling us all we need to know about the child's state of mind:
"...How/twilight bred whole squadrons of dragonflies,/crows flying indifferent sorties overhead,/their aloofness anchoring my gaze to the sky."
But it's also the voice, and the world-view, in the poems of this collection that draw one in. I kept thinking as I read that the speaker is like the guy to whom no one paid much attention to in high school because he was shy and a little different and probably had his own stuff going on, but who, in retrospect, was the guy you should have spent your time with, or maybe married. Meyerhofer's poems are often slyly humorous, and he's not afraid of irony, but the snark, and the cleverness-for-cleverness'-sake that seem to have become fashionable in our culture lately are refreshingly absent. These are the poems of a man who sees a bit of himself and of all of us in everything he comes across--ancient relics, the mysteries of the universe, the sweet naivete of students, Pontius Pilate, Jesus. There's a pervasive melancholy in the poems--particularly the ones about Meyerhofer's mother--but a determination to carry on and keep loving and living and learning from everything, even under the weight of damned memory.
I met Meyerhofer once in North Carolina There was something up with his ear That I wanted to ask about But instead I chickenshitted out And asked if he was a boxer And sort of gestured toward it Now I know what was up With his ear
Also, his mom died of diabetes or something In Iowa And sometimes he gets embarrassed By his students And even just strangers And even stranger Sometimes just random thoughts
But it's all there on the page Farts and musings Mr. Magoo moments and Mr. Rogers, too
I haven't written a poem since I was a teenager Well, maybe twenty. So I guess this isn't a poem. Even though it is. Thanks, Meyerhofer. You're goddamned inspirational.
Meyerhofer’s poems are brilliant. He intuitively probes the human experience, with unapologetic and honest insights into what makes us - and himself - tick. Emotionally, his work ranges from witty to somber, thoughtful to politically charged. He has an unusual talent for observation, revealing something new in the familiar, but doing so in a way that we realize that it was there all along. I found his poetry artful, satisfying and evocative. Looking forward to more.
I had the pleasure of meeting Meyerhofer twice in college, and he's honestly such a nice and inviting man. I think his poems reflect that, for who else could write something like, "Forget the wrestlers with quick-/silver torsos and Spartan shoulders, /the sheen of cornstalks like secrets/wrapped in green evening gowns..."
However, the magic behind Meyerhofer is that he's also funny. He'll write poems about Ed Gein, and has, poems about a mother dying and someone thinking that her son had put her ashes in a coffee cup, but still, they're beautiful, even if you're laughing along.