KRUPSKAYA, 2008
Read by Nick McArthur
In the acknowledgements page of his newest collection, Colin Smith describes his poem “Hoot,” as “a sculpting of Allen Ginsberg’s ‘Howl.’” Perhaps more specifically, the poem appears as a minimalist re-imagination of the Beat original; a distillation of Ginsberg’s epic into two or three word noun clauses, scattered across four pages, and seemingly unlinked by any form or grammar. The end result is a thematically and ideationally faithful homage that is nonetheless unique in both shape and tone: whereas “Howl” appears breathless, continuous, and bombastic, “Hoot” is quiet, fragmented and concise; and while “Howl” most resembles a single tireless rant, “Hoot” takes the shape of intermittent mutters.
Despite these apparent differences, Ginsberg’s influence can be felt throughout the entirety of 8×8x7. Smith adopts many of the older poet’s signature obsessions and shapes them to fit his own poetic vision. The two share, among other things: a fascination with the human body, in all its beauty and repulsiveness; concern over the relationship of the individual to the state and of the state to the individual; a penchant for satiric humour that borders on the absurd; and, most notably, a fierce distrust of American corporate and consumer culture.
Smith’s radical politics are an integral part of 8×8x7, and even the most intimate poems bear some trace of dogmatic social commentary. More than once, the dogma becomes troublesome, even difficult to read. At his absolute worst, the speaker resembles a white-knuckled teenager, teetering on his soapbox, indicting everyone but himself. For the most part, however, Smith tempers the didactic moments with pitch black humour, and a talent for sharp one-liners. More importantly, the speaker’s rants are often followed by bouts of self-awareness — brief stanzas that both disarm the reader and return the poem to the realm of the personal. In the middle of one particularly heated and far-reaching tirade, the speaker stops himself short, taking account of his frustrations: “And now my sincerest apology if this poem sounds too much like sending the bourgeoisie to the principal’s office.”
More than anything else, 8×8x7 explores the intersection of the personal and the political, the private and the public, and it does so with considerable originality and insight. Though some readers are sure to find the vitriol off-putting, others will welcome the surety with which it’s rendered. Fans of Ginsberg, in particular, should be delighted to find a talent working from the same tradition — a poet who’s bringing his wit and outrage to bear on new absurdities.
