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Sodomy is a City in New Jersey  John Dorsey's latest book of poetry, Sodomy is a City in New Jersey, contains a touch of the brute that the title (and cover) might suggest. This book, however, carries a satisfying balance of hard-nosed brutal truth and tender heart-nudging honesty. This careful weaving of both hard and soft edges comes from the author's ability to be both a keen observer and a faithful participator in the world around him: i will help bring humanity back to the bomb because that's what's required here it is the only way to love and to make love i am the muse of the dead the world's song hums through my cock ("because i drink luck like whiskey") A reader will be hard pressed to find a collection of poems more real and down to earth than those found in Sodomy. John Dorsey's grace as a writer comes from many years of experience. Not only has he produced a large volume of high caliber work, but he has also built up the reputation of being a master at his craft. His open-hearted knowledge of how life can burn, bleed, and then finally heal again, easily reveals itself through his poetic memories. The stories told through his writings are deeply felt by the reader, and embraced as gospel truths: my grandmother was hit by a car on the streets of pittsburgh in 1961 my mother's mother dead at 26 i wasn't there i wasn't even a thumbprint on the side of a time machine though her last breath may well have been my own Stanzas such as the one above (from "thumbprint on the side of a time machine") is a prime example of the way Dorsey always finds a clear shot that cuts directly to the heart. His wording is precise, succinct, and never misses a beat. His poems flow effortlessly, continuously nudging the reader along his smooth path. His poems, although crystalline and easy to grasp, are not in any way predictable. Each poem is a unique work that feels familiar to the reader only because of its humanistic elements. Dorsey makes his own shoes easy to step into, while giving the reader something layered and intricate to chew on. His words are branded with his incomparable vision, a point of view quite extraordinary in the state of American poetry today: i have harvested dreams like some people harvest the organs of the dead 10 fingers 10 toes i hum these words 10 fingers 10 toes to touch the ocean floor of death once our lips touched ("32 flavors of love and death") With the fragility of such poems as "32 flavors of love and death," Dorsey recognizes and accepts the sadness in others and in himself, but he does not possess nor ask for pity. He acknowledges pain and trusts that it will simply run its course. The duration of this pain, eloquently expressed in Sodomy is a City in New Jersey, is valuable. We welcome it all when it comes from you, John Dorsey. ____________________________ Sodomy is a City in New Jersey can be purchased HERE. John Dorsey currently resides in Toledo, OH. He is the author of several collections of poetry including Teaching the Dead to Sing: The Outlaw's Prayer (Rose of Sharon Press, 2006). His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com |