Even the most mundane and simple experiences can inspire poetry, this seems to be the theme of Madness and Retribution, the latest collection from poet Juliette Torrez.
Luckily, the actual poems don't harbor the same stale demeanor as their subjects.
On the contrary, Torrez takes trite places and experiences and creates strong and thought-provoking poetry. Instead of bothering with metaphors, personification or even rhyme schemes, she writes in an unpretentious style. Reading much like a collection of short stories, Madness takes an un-embellished look at everyday life and focuses on what makes it unique.
The first poem, titled "Albuquerque," examines the city's identity crisis and the contention of the author, saying Albuquerque is "A hard-hearted town/ dressed in fake mud/ being something you're not." She goes on to say, "It's good to be here/ though when I'm gone/ I don't miss you much."
Already the poem is relatable to a large chunk of this city's population.
Even when she begins a poem with vivid descriptions of landscapes or city scenes, such as "The city seems quiet in the purple twilight, palm tree silhouette, middle of the night," Torrez takes a sharp turn into the undeniable truth of her surroundings, following these descriptions with "But it isn't, he tells me, right now someone is raping a woman, right now someone is getting assaulted, right now someone is getting their car stolen."
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Madness, if nothing else, dismisses the romanticism of traditional poetry.
Torrez's strongest and most interesting poems are focused on individuals. These poems depict the sometimes depressing, sometimes humorous, but always captivating condition of people and their problems.
In "Missed Connections," Torrez writes to a no-show date: "I heard you got really drunk/ I heard you broke a lot of stuff/ I heard you even threw up and that you were falling down a sidewalk so bad a passing hooker had to pick you up."
And in "Mother of
Four," Torrez objectively describes the plight of a woman smoking in a Denny's who gets harassed by near-by patrons about the smoke and later "picks up a 12-gauge shotgun/ takes it back to the restaurant/ shot one complainer dead in the parking lot."
If there is nothing else the collection has to offer, it is discursive rants, which Torrez transforms into eloquent verses. Even the editorialized poems retain simplicity and sincerity.
Most end abruptly, right before explanations of exactly why such madness is present in the world.
Torrez leaves it up to the reader to interpret and justify the absurd, malevolent, but always amusing situations she writes about.
