Reviewed by Elijah Naugher
Calvocoressi’s (They/She) recent book of poems, The New Economy, is a kaleidoscope of growth, loss, admiration, anger, and the continuation of trauma in the process of healing. It is a refreshing and at times feverish exploration of childhood trauma, guilt and desire, and the beautiful nature of the mundane. Calvocoressi uses what initially appears to be imperfect, or under-descriptive language to emphasize the connections between the apparent nature of a thing, and its continued presence outside of our immediate comprehension.
Their focus on phrases such as “light bodies” and “skin sacks” to compare the physical body of a thing to the supernatural soul of that same thing functions to remove barriers between specific images. A man being executed, and the belts which hold him down are both “skin sacks” but the man’s actual death is the act of being disconnected from his “light body.” This subjugation of conventional descriptions of images functions to create incredibly new-feeling images. It is as if Calvocoressi has inverted the colors of a sunset and given the reader the opportunity to reexperience wonder. The book also uses a titling system that is rather unique, with the first half of poems being titled around the word “cistern.” This points to what appears to be a spiritual approach to everyday life that focuses on memory as a deep well, and the word’s ability to connect depth and tranquility to almost anything given enough space to explore that thing’s significance. The second half of the book is written in more traditional styling. Poems are titled without “cistern” and they are numbered. Line length shortens rather drastically. It is almost as if Calvocoressi was writing two books around the same subject. The effective style here is still entirely varied however. Calvocoressi is clearly a master of form and is unafraid to wander between different styles. One poem will be three lines covering only a sixth of the page, the next a prose poem dedicated entirely to the physical presence filling a space entirely with ink. However, even in prose poems Calvocoressi will leave blanks, as if to suggest there are stories that we never tell completely. Calvocoressi’s willingness to push their lines entirely to the right side of the page is disruptive while reading, however this is not a negative. It suggests an almost unfounded voice, or perhaps a speaker that is continually aware of a lack of place.
Calvocoressi uses lots of imagery revolving around an animalistic desire for food and power. The metaphors relating squirrels and hawks as both beautiful independent organisms and also parts of a larger food chain are very suggestive of a larger understanding of human experience as a result of an imbalance. This is an imbalance not only of power and resources, but also an ability to admire oneself. Calvocoressi’s detailed monologues of male bodies not as something they are jealous of, but instead fascinated by is intensely interesting, and communicates a desire not to take from another creature, but to exist as them. I think this book is a foundational exploration of human empathy. This is not done in a manner of performance or expression, but merely in an internally realized appreciation of experiencing themselves as well as other people.
Calvocoressi’s empathy is not the only voice that fills these poems however, there is quite frequently a discussion of anger. The methods used by Calvocoressi to emphasize this emotion though are quite subtle. In their poem Mayflower Cistern I feel my Pilgrim Worry Calvocoressi uses the established images of pilgrims settling the America’s to discuss injustice within our modern society. Lines such as “Whatever does not welcome / me I tear asunder. Whatever / welcomes me was mine to / sack and bring to my knees.” emphasize the inherently broken nature of a worldview focused on consumption, and explore the idea that we have tied our need for growth too closely to our understanding of loss. Calvocoressi continues with “I give the gift of my hunger / to everyone.” this serves to doubly express the modern American approach of success as something that must result from hunger. They end the poem with an emphasis on the continued desire to fix that which has been broke by stating “My pilgrim huddles in the corner / of my heart.” Thereby moving the image of the pilgrim from a physical entity, to a personified expression of national pride and a belief in our chance at solving the American Experiment. There is a very present anger in this poem which perhaps does not lend itself any loudness, but dominates the silence.