Instead, I settled for YouTube videos of cave divers, men and women who risk their lives to navigate hidden and inhospitable spaces. Reading The Next Monsters, I felt urged to watch black-and-white movies that take place inside drafty and cavernous mansions, places out of the way out in the country where rain never stops pounding on the windows. Like shards of so much brokenness, not all of these poems-or even the individual lines within each poem-fall into place easily. It is rainbows, it is angel fumes, and I own them all.” But when I reach inside I feel my breath turn hairy and my bones turn wool.
Paper monsters review youtube windows#
I’m here and will shatter 100 airplane windows before I emerge.” Or this line from “The Key to Moving Correctly Without Running Into Obstacles”: “Silence is all I know.
Paper monsters review youtube skin#
There were howlings and I think about them ever day with skin buzzing insanely. It’s a method that is employed throughout the collection, a method that allows Doxsee to keep things feeling tightly focused and controlled while still maintaining a sense of spontaneity, such as in this excerpt from “October”: “I found in my prison a dream, I found a dream that was extra ghoulish. The feeling of “spookiness” that comes through so strongly here works because Doxsee is careful to balance atmosphere-the notion of oppression not dissimilar from fear-with more tangible, textural details such as sounds and familiar, though well-chosen, images. I notice a firefly crawling over the eave.” In it are: a jar with a baby sweater stuffed inside, three-dozen broken lighters, and the feeling of the door.” And then, “I am separated from my lungs. The narrator hides him or herself away in the closet. And always the resounding echo and dread of death. The poem contains repeated references to broken lighters, breath, fireflies, and various body parts: lungs, fingers, ears. He removes the door to suck my breath from the idea of entrance.” A doorbell rings throughout the poem, perhaps signaling that something unexpected-and unwanted-has arrived, making its presence known. For lack of a better word, it’s also the “spookiest.” The first poem in “Cabin,” also titled “Cabin”-all five poems in “Cabin” are titled “Cabin”-opens with the lines, “I notice a mist at the door. Of the six sections that organize The Next Monsters into distinct yet complementary parts, I found the second section, “Cabin,” to be the most successful. And this is what I love most about poetry: the way image can coexist with sound, or the way the smallest detail can rip holes in the universe, or how sometimes an unexpected word, a loosely associated turn of phrase or sonic inversion, can change everything. Doxsee never limits what her poems can do. They are also beautiful, filled with fog and wild animals, magic 8 balls and fish guts, the achingly sad sounds made by empty houses. If you stare at them long enough, you’ll uncover patterns in the chaos, hints of a larger image that was perhaps banished to a new and frightening dimension when the mirror was broken-like the big moment at the end of Prince of Darkness that leaves you feeling unwell.
Doxsee’s poems are shattered mirrors they are fractured, jagged.
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