Why the fuck not I thought. The ODALISQUE is tinsel, as is the town. Maybe Salerno is still dreaming of chasing nubile young co-eds around the tomato plants in the imagined garden of his palatial mind. If so, good for him. The poems will stand him up & break him down, as they do in this new book.
It’s an L.A. noir tour w/all cinematic cogs & wheels running. Humphrey Bogart & Lauren Bacall watching themselves in The Big Sleep while reading John Clare, or Yeats, or Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Maybe that’s Robert Mithchum & Gloria whats-her-name in the B-picture that was better.
The threadwork is what it’s about, & Salerno is a tailor of sorts when it comes to the poetic line. If you lose yourself, that’s okay, it’s part of the show. Pick it up on the next line.
“the idolatry of reason will fuck you up”
Nothing else need be said as Gatsby fades out in the third act.
“she told her soul to leave her alone and it did so…”
Yes, I knew her, & this is exactly what happened. M’sieur Salerno must have been listening in through the transom. It is a gift. Poets know this.
If I am lavish in my praise it’s because I have no fear. It’s too late in the game to hedge my bets. Salerno, when he doesn’t second-guess his heart, sings as true as any poet can. What more can you ask for?
ODALISQUE by Mark Salerno, Salt Publishing, 2007.
