MY FAVORITE THING
by Michael Ketchek, Bob Lucky & Lucas Stensland
Edited by Stanford M. Forrester
Bottle Rockets Press, 2011
Senryu tells the truth. That’s what first attracted me to haiku’s cousin all those years ago. And what a cousin she is – dangerous, confident, funny and showing just the right amount of cleavage. Whilst haiku commits to the page the essence of a moment in the natural world, senryu manages to lay bare the essence of what it is to be human in any given instance, and the best senryu achieves this by being as honest and, frankly, frank as it can be.
My Favorite Thing presents a selection of senryu from three of the form’s best and most uninhibited practitioners. American poets Michael Ketchek, Bob Lucky and Lucas Stensland should already be familiar names to senryu readers, and, for those who may be just getting to know the form, this pocket-size anthology serves as a suitable introduction. The little book is edited and introduced by Stanford M. Forrester whose Bottle Rockets Press continues to promote the work of short-form poets across the globe.
Whilst all three of the aforementioned writers share a common flair for honest, often candid poetry – lending this anthology its most palpable theme – each of the writers “expose themselves”, as Stanford puts it in his introduction, in a very distinctive way. The anthology opens with Michael Ketchek – perhaps the most unreserved of the bunch:
my easy heart
two drinks
and it’s love
In an anthology that makes mention of Charles Bukowski twice, it is surely Mr Ketchek who succeeds in rousing the spirit of that most honest of writers. His senryu seems to flow from the heart that he wears on his sleeve, appearing to spray off the cuff in a way that would have made Bukowski’s anti-hero, Henry Chinaski, proud:
rocking the baby
at 3AM trying to feel
the joy of fatherhood
Presenting one’s self in a spontaneous, truthful, funny and profound way whilst also arousing a recognition of the reader’s own human nature is the not-so-simple key to being a good writer of senryu. It’s the kind of skill we expect from the most dexterous of stand-up comedians. And, as this anthology plainly exhibits, Michael Ketchek is a master of his art.
Whilst it is possible to compare Michael Ketchek’s work with that of Bukowski and the Beats, Bob Lucky prompts this reviewer to turn to the greats in the field of documentary film-making to seek out an adequate comparison:
rocking train
an old man cradles
a dented thermos
The truth, according to Bob Lucky, is something that can be presented with an uncomplicated, often quiet and uniquely arresting snapshot of a moment. Unlike many senryu writers, Bob explores human nature with a painterly eye, exposing an acute awareness of the presence of ourselves within our surroundings:
an old argument…
scraping the burned rice
out of the pot
Like the Werner Herzog of senryu, Bob Lucky provides this anthology with some of its most visually stark and ultimately revealing portraits of human nature.
Although his section is left until last, Lucas Stensland falls right between Ketchek and Lucky in his handling of this short poetic form. His senryu is, at once, filmic, frank and filled with humour:
watching me pee
on the neighbour’s fence–
the neighbour’s dog
There’s something of a two-way openness when it comes to Stensland’s poems. Like Ketchek and Lucky, Stensland comfortably expresses himself without hesitation, but he also takes a chance on the unlikeliest features of his own landscape. Whilst many contemporary senryu writers often lack the courage it takes to seek out poetry in the strangest of places, Lucas just goes for it:
wondering if
Norman Mailer
would have liked me
all this
Ikea furniture
As My Favorite Thing comes to a close, Lucas reminds us that senryu, however uninhibited, however humorous and however wildly revealing and wound-like in its reality, is, after all, a form of poetry. He proves that the trivialities within our daily lives – Ikea, veggie burgers and complimentary peanuts – are the stuff of deep contemplation. Look around you and you’ll find yourself.
Liam Wilkinson, November 2011
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