I think I was a sophomore when I randomly picked this up from a box of free books plunked outside of a doorway in the history department. I chose it because I found the cover quirky and endearing in some way–and I always find it hard to pass up free books–but I never really opened it until two years later. This summer, I discovered it on my bookshelf during a bout of literary restlessness and read through the entire thing, got to the end, and read each poem over again.
I find Yakich’s poems smart and true, hilarious and tragic, and altogether a really fresh voice that I am more than happy to follow for pages to come. So today, I give you two (!) poems from Mark.
“You Are Not a Statue”-Mark Yakich
And I am not a pedestal.
We are not a handful of harmless
scratches on pale pink canvas.
Today is not the day to stop
looking for the woman
to save you. What was once
ivory is wood. What was once
whalebone is cotton.
My coif and corset are duly
fastened, and your shirttail is
tied in a diamond knot.
You may be the giver
of unappreciated nicknames
and the devoted artist
who has given my still life
life. But we can never reach
each other’s standards.
You want to condemn me
to eternity. I want to make you
no more perfect than you
used to be. We are not
together, we are not alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“On Raisins”
They are much misunderstood.
Like that old writer’s truism:
“Write what you know.” –well,
you don’t know very much.
So you write about raisins
Faithless little fuck-ups,
plucked, dried, smashed in a box.
That feelings of being in the world,
but not of the world. So what
if berries fall from the hand
as only berries do.
live in the layers 