In his first full size book "Blood Song" Michael Schmeltzer writes poems about family, loss and growing up half Japanese. The poem that sits apart at the beginning before the two sections, "Phoenix-Tongue," asks, "How should families speak of/paper and people enduring the feral infernos?" A good heading poem for this book with so much: grief (from the poem "Because Your Father Died On Our Anniversary," "I remember how he slipped/into death like a man/plunging into a half-frozen lake."); blood (from the poem "The Memory of Glass," "And when I speak of fire,/I mean blood/rising out of wood, branches/that blanch the darkness"); and song with so much lyrical language, and a myriad of sounds: screams, cricket chirps, and from the poem "Instruments Only Heard At Night": sonatas, Ninth Symphony, a gong. The poem, "Elegy/Sound," is filled with harsh sounds: traffic, screeching breaks, horns. We hear and feel these sounds as we read these poems filled with the pain of loss, "I'd trade the sun/for one murmur of your mouth."
One of my favorite poems, "Kite," starts:
"The stripper grinds her ass
into the man's groin
like she's smothering a fire,
moans You're so hot, so
exotic, asks What race are you?
and he replies Seattle Marathon"
The poem's climatic middle:
"on that cliff a boy
dangerously close to tumbling over
and behind him his mother
jerks him back the way we pull
the string of a kite"
Another favorite poem, "Boil," starts:
"I know things. For instance,
when I talk to certain men
about how a hummingbird's tongue
laps up nectar, their eyes
donut-glaze, and they bore a hole
clean through to the core
of me, right where I hide
my secret-self like the pit
of a cherry. I'm not psychic,
but I know what they're thinking"
I've heard him read, and this book was a runner up for the Washington Book Award. I look forward to reading more of his writing.