Microreview Monday

Jambandbootleg

Paul Siegell

A-Head Publishing, 2009

$12.00

 

Like his dazzling debut Poemergency Room, Paul Siegell’s second collection jambandbootleg buzzes with exuberance so huge the book can barely contain it. From the blurb by his dad—“What a rush!” to the “(((Whooo’s got my publisher?)))” where most would put “acknowledgments” to the “SETLIST” instead of a “Table of Contents,” Siegell’s book embodies the non-stop sensory overload of a super-fun show.

 

Like the bands he idolizes—Phish, the Disco Biscuits—Siegell’s poetry has an improvisational quality, but not an optional one; there are surprises, certainly, but so too is there skillful decision-making at work; he is causing effects to happen for a reason. Or as he puts it in “SET III” “for Dionysus speaks: / Apollo descends w/ boundaries.”

 

In “Meet Me at Will Call” he writes:

 

I. Today

I was told

over the phone

that I sounded

“happy”

 

And he sounds that way over the page, too, which makes this book refreshing, a romp—a cover-to-cover experience of Dionysian excess, ecstasy, and escape. In poems that take concert-going as their well-spring, Siegell carries on the visionary tradition of Ginsberg and Blake. [Kathleen Rooney]