2nd Review of Pennine Hillsongs by M; Margo (by Clara B. Jones)

M; Margo

Pennine Hillsongs

(The Haunted Mask II)

2018

Ghost City Press

Unpaginated, 15 poems

PDF free or with donation

Reviewed by Clara B. Jones*

M; Margo [Margo Emm] and I are acquaintances. They are Editor of Zoomoozophone Review, an online journal of innovative poetry in which I have published several times. In my opinion, they are among the best avant garde poets of their generation—fearless and difficult to pigeon-hole. Reviewing their two previous books, I have labeled Margo a poet of “angst,” often focusing on disturbing personal themes to the exclusion of social or political ones. In Pennine Hillsongs, the poet continues to write about interior experiences; however, this collection delivers so much more. To my knowledge, it is the first published volume dedicated exclusively to “gender dysphoria”—discomfort or distress caused by incongruence between a person's sex assigned at birth and their gender identity.

The author, Managing Editor of Gold Wake Live and Publicity Director for Gold Wake Press, describes themselves as “a person who writes and resides in Cleveland, Ohio.” Pennine Hillsongs, a title in Ghost City Press' 2018 Summer Series, is heavily coded, and the puzzles begin on the cover page. The Pennine Hills are a range of mountains in England, and an online search yielded more than one musical group referring to these formations. The image on the title page, however, makes it clear that M; Margo intends to refer to The Pennines, a band comprised of four young men who, based on YouTube recordings, sing somewhat monotonal, mostly, instrumental, songs. The four individuals on the cover of Pennine Hillsongs presumably depict the band's members—their faces covered by masks, distortions of human faces. The book's parenthetical subtitle refers to a fictional children's horror book, The Haunted Mask II, whose main character is a meek little girl who purchases a Halloween mask that will not come off. M; Margo, thus, introduces the reader to their conflicted, uncomfortable, and, possibly, scary world.

The first poem, “song for xan,” refers to a character in a role-playing game who, according to information available online, has a “broken” mind, causing them to be institutionalized. Barring the poem's title, the page contains no words, only a depiction of concentric semi-circles appearing throughout the volume and unifying, even, stabilizing, the book from page to page. These semi-circles seem to represent the author's broken, or, incomplete, Self, preparing the reader for what will come. All of the poems in Pennine Hillsongs are hybrid, combining art and text, and the second poem, “the mirror,” continues our introduction to their dysphoria, depicting a distorted ghost with the sentence, “this is what my ghost will look like,” placed beneath the figure in semi-circular design. The ghost provides a stark image of what their disorder may feel like—including, disruption, sadness, vulnerability, exhaustion, and defeat. Repetition of words and phrases, a hallmark of this collection, is characteristic of other avant garde poets, most notably, Gertrude Stein.

Readers of traditional poetry may ask whether M; Margo's pieces are poetry at all. However, the works contain many conventional elements, in addition to, visual and pictorial images and appropriation of words of songs. Among the conventional characteristics are strong narrative statements. In “no dispute,” for example, they provide a brief manifesto with the words: “there can be no dispute that trans women are women//gender is a construct//that sex is also a construct//that i can wear makeup and a beard//....” Like many other poems written by LGBTQ artists, this one is utopian, envisioning a non-binary world. M; Margo continues their narrative of “gender dysphoria” in the poem, “song for selphie,” depicting distorted clowns and other disfigured images relieved, however, by their play on words (“selphie”/selfie). Additional cases of humor provided throughout the collection (e.g., “high coo,” “no more pennines”) demonstrate that they are capable of seeing beyond their present suffering, a perspective that may be comforting to others—whatever their present pain. The final poem in this collection “song for flash,” is lyrical, communicating the author's capacity for healing and their wish for intimacy, repeating, “i love you i miss you”—again and again as semi-circles. Ultimately, transgender or not, anyone can identify with M; Margo's journey from a very dark place to a hopeful one. They have created another noteworthy book of innovative poetry that readers of avant garde literature will appreciate and enjoy. I eagerly await their future works.

*Originally published in the Fall Issue (October 2018) of Bitchin' Kitsch

Review of Pennine Hillsongs by M; Margo [Margo Emm] (by Clara B. Jones)

M; Margo

Pennine Hillsongs

(The Haunted Mask II)

PDF available free online (see link)

2018

Ghost City Press (ghostcitypress@gmail.com)

Unpaginated (15 poems)

Mini-Review by Clara B. Jones*

“(just for your information, if I make a facebook post about struggling with gender dysphoria, maybe don't write a comment calling me 'man')” Margo Emm [M; Margo] on Facebook®, 7/13/2018

The purpose of this mini-review is to make readers aware of a new collection by Margo Emm (Publicity Director at Gold Wake Press) who is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting young avant garde poets writing today. They have published three books, Blueberry Lemonade (2015, Bottlecap Press), yr yr (2017, Ghost City Press), and, now, Pennine Hillsongs (The Haunted Mask II), part of the Ghost City Press Summer Mini-Chapbook Series. Kevin Bertolero, Founding Editor and Publisher of Ghost City Press, informed me (via e-mail, 7/9/2018) that the primary purpose of the summer series is to introduce new and emerging writers to the public. All titles are available on the press' website (ghostcitypress.com) at no cost, though, donations are gratefully accepted.

M; Margo's new book is a puzzle, and I decided to submit this mini-review hoping that readers would have time to enjoy the collection's challenges before the official end of Summer. Like many avant garde and post-modern works, however, it is not necessary to decode the text in order to appreciate it. Beginning with the collection's title page, words and image are metaphorical and symbolic. The Pennines are both a mountain range in England and the name of a British band consisting of four young men—wearing masks in the cover photo, apparently symbolic of a character in the book, The Haunted Mask 2. After listening to a couple of songs by the band—available on YouTube—I came away with the impression that the music is somewhat mono-tonal in nature and, mostly, instrumental. The rather sonorous mood created is appropriate to the tone of many of the author's poems in this chap, a collection of hybrid pieces composed of verbal and visual elements. As an aside, I read online that the band has donated proceeds to the mental health community, possibly, one factor drawing the author to this group. Elsewhere, I have called the writer a poet of “angst” because much of their work is a product of their dis-ease—personal experiences with anxiety, dysphoria, loss, and pain. One feature that distinguishes their work from many examples of the genre, however, is that, for the most part, they avoid self-pity and unrelieved morbidity.

In each (experimental) poem, words accompany or are superimposed upon broken concentric circles, and the texts, themselves, are often coded. Symbolically, circles may stand for wholeness or The Self. That each image of concentric circles is broken in some manner no doubt represents the writer's sense of incompleteness or, perhaps, dislocation. The first poem is titled, “song for xan”, a character in an internet role-play game whose “mind was broken” and who was institutionalized, according to information available online. While it is not possible to determine to what degree Pennine Hillsongs (The Haunted Mask II) is autobiographical, each poem conveys some sense of struggle (occasionally with humor), sometimes permitting the reader to identify with the author and to experience universal human emotions beyond the poet's personal domain. This collection coheres, in part, because the circular symbolism is consistent throughout the chap, emphasizing, at once, incompleteness, as well as, the possibility of a more coherent and universal sentience. Should you decide to read this collection, I feel certain that you will not have wasted your time. The author is “one to watch” as they mature as a poet and transition to a more stable place in the world. For those interested in placing this collection within the wider context of experimental literature, many issues arise regarding, for example, the significance of hybrid writing, the various uses of repetition in poetry, the distinction between subject and object, as well as, the meaning of “text art.” Finally, referring to innovative poetry more generally, interested readers will find similarities between the present author's writing and other avant garde poets, including, Gertrude Stein, Ron Padgett, Leslie Scalapino, C.D. Wright, and Myung Mi Kim.

https://ghostcitypress.com/2018-summer-microchap-series/pennine-hillsongs-the-haunted-mask-ii


*Originally published in The Curly Mind, September 2018

Review of yr yr by Matt Margo (Review by Clara B. Jones)

yr yr¹

Matt Margo

2017

Ghost City Press

29 pp

Free to download with or without donation

Reviewed by Clara B. Jones

It is difficult to characterize “experimental” or “avant-garde” poetry definitively. However, it is widely accepted that these forms break with conventional practices. Matt Margo is a recognized promoter of experimental poetry as a writer and Editor of two poetry journals and as Publicity Director for Gold Wake Press. They describe themselves simply as “a person who writes,” though their identity is, also, defined by use of non-binary pronouns and non-gendered creative work. Margo's 2015 poetry collection Blueberry Lemonade, established them as a prominent young poet of “angst,” addressing trauma and neurotic impulses. Rather than being a collection about the interior self, however, yr yr's poems position the writer in relation to language. Their poem, “sea,” exhibits the form of pieces throughout the chapbook, words or phrases separated by various graphemes unique to each composition. Titles are short, single words—“animal,” “craft,” “killer,” “whale,” “mind[less],” “arts.” Each word or phrase might be considered an element to itself, and, in a post-modern sense, meaning or interpretation is, for the most part, surrendered to the reader.

sea

sample of mint leaf ÷ matrix equation ÷ the end of the season

÷ relatively peaceful ÷ a raised stone basement ÷ beyond the

clouds ÷ performance and precision ÷ the science of human

history ÷ seen to be sympathetic ÷ this pathway is

suppressed ÷ boob tube inanities ÷ wrecked off the coast ÷

completely in lowercase ÷ eternal dream ÷ group stage ÷

coach of the dragonflies ÷ superparticular ÷ all animals be

stunned ÷ the variegated pink ÷ determiner of shoe sizes

“sea,” and the other compositions in yr yr, can be understood as true examples of minimalist “collage poetry,” and, if we are not to consider these poems as random collections of words and phrases, we must assume that they are intentionally positioned, perhaps, via the writer's process of free-association. Whatever the derivation of these pieces, they are Rorschach-like, and, if not intended for diagnosis, are intended to provide pleasure and non-representational fantasy. Sometimes, poems contain references to titles, such as the phrases, “in the hydrostatic equilibrium” and “a sudden change in the atmosphere,” in the piece titled, “fog.”

the poems, “futures” and “transient” contain the phrases, “opus of chaos” and “state of chaos,” respectively, possibly hinting at Margo's view of themself in an uncertain world. On the other hand, they may find comfort in “a universal human language,” an element of the poem, “logic,” and reminiscent of Noam Chomsky's formulations about “deep grammar.” In the poem, “gazelle,” one phrase highlights “pure poetic fantasy,” that may be a coded message about how the writer perceives their collection. Similarly, in the poem, “winter,” they embed the phrase, “derivation is uncertain,” within a poem whose elements are otherwise [seemingly] unrelated. However, in at least one poem, “red”, Margo includes the phrase, “form follows function,” an element linking the compositions, and the writer's view of them, to serious critical scholarship, in this case, about the writings as a whole.

However yr yr may, or may not, be connected to the mainstream literary scene, all poetry is fiction and cannot be completely realistic—though we may want to believe otherwise. With this collection, Margo has transitioned from a type of literal interiorization to poems that increase the distance between writing and reader. yr yr reveals Margo's aesthetic authority. They have seemingly moved beyond personal conflicts to address the contradictions, ambiguities, and complexities of adult life. I highly recommend this collection to any reader interested in ambitious and mostly successful examples of contemporary Experimental Poetry by a young writer, and I eagerly anticipate their future work.

¹Originally published in the curly mind, 2017

Review of Blueberry Lemonade by Matt Margo (Review by Clara B. Jones)

Blueberry Lemonade*

Matt Margo

Bottlecap Press

2015

45 pp

$10.00

Reviewed by Clara B. Jones

The New York School poet, Alice Notley, one said, “I am alone, and that seems to make my personhood more urgent.” Poet and Editor (Zoomoozophone Review), Matt Margo, might say something similar. I feel that I know Matt well...though I don't. We follow each other on Facebook, I have published a few poems in his journal, and we have occasionally interacted electronically. I like Margo's poetry, even though some of it is so raw that it kicks me out of my safety bubble, and the poet's bravery, clarity, and insight never cease to amaze me. Matt (hereafter, the “poet,” the “author,” or “they”) describes themselves as “trans-feminine” and “non-binary,” regarding their gender as “feminine.” Most of the poems in this collection address the author's complex emotional life, including, their psychic struggles. A recent, professional grade, image of themselves posted to Facebook was superimposed with the text, “Saint Margo of Perpetual Anxiety,” and, indeed, their poems' substance locates the author squarely in the tradition of Sylvia Plath and Poetry of Angst.

Bottlecap Press' statement describing the book says that it is about “reading poetry, listening to Gucci Mane, missing everyone, longing for love, regretting the past, fearing the future, wanting to die, wanting to live, being sad, and trying to overcome being sad.” I would, also, say that the book is about loss and reinvention of self. Some poets, Thomas Lux, for example, might view the present collection as an example of the “coming of age” sub-genre because of Margo's detailed, sometimes, tortuously self-scrutinizing, documentation of their struggles with identity and place as well as their conflicts. Blueberry Lemonade, of course, is a mixture of sour and sweet, colored blue [sic], and the volume's cover reinforces these ideas by displaying a tower of yellow building blocks, representing, perhaps, the poet's upward climb to wholeness or, even, the skyscraper the author refers to in one haiku...

“i dream of being

a skyscraper in the midst

of a hurricane”

It would trivialize the emotional currency of Margo's feelings to interpret “skyscraper” as a Phallic Symbol, and the author makes few direct references to physical expressions of affection.

As they suggest, Margo has been influenced by James Joyce's modernist style of “psychological realism,” and the poems' styles are reminiscent, also, of Virginia Woolf who described their writing as “interior monologue.” Some poems in Blueberry Lemonade reminded me of Michael C. Peterson's poem, “Repeater,” for instance, Margo's line, “you pull the trigger on a plastic toy gun that you have put into your/ mouth.” Many of the author's poems are dark, bordering, in my opinion, on nihilism and, less frequently, on self-pity (see the poems, “a fun activity for a sunday afternoon;” “do-it-yourself make-a-wish foundation;” “a garbage bag stuffed with internal organs;” “they told me i could be anything i wanted to be, so i killed myself;” and, the Haiku,“i am so sorry/ please forgive me. i am a/ monster. i hate it.”). This is a collection of radical, very serious poetry whose gravity is relieved somewhat by the poet's obvious love for music, their respect for other experimental poets (e.g., Steve Roggenbuck), and their clear understanding that, though self-concept may be fractured and complex, it exists in a larger community and a broader narrative (“in the end though, i just want people to participate/ in any way possible;” “we all were formed from/ dead suns & there is something/ beautiful in that”). Indeed, in addition to being a Poet of Angst, Margo can be viewed as a Poet of Identity whose strong images communicate that he has not given up (“the comedians & magicians/come together in search of footprints”; “bliss is not fixed in passing canisters”). Surely, for this poet, The Sublime exists though it cannot be contained.

While I am sympathetic with Formalism and with academic Poetry, including, theory and criticism, I think there is a degree of elitism among some in that community who have erected standards so rigid that they function as barriers to success, in effect, making “Others” of poets who privilege language, authenticity, present experience, and meaning. For example, one can only infer from Helen Vendler's critiques of Adrienne Rich's poetry after they professed their lesbianism and became outspokenly political as well as activist, that Vendler found Rich's poetry interesting (Vendler likes Rich's “themes”) but disappointing (“failed promise”, is Vendler's term). Without ever going on the personal attack, Vendler (very politely) dismisses Rich's work after ~1973, as “politics” and “sociology.” Is Vendler saying that Rich's mid- to late-career work is not Poetry or not good Poetry? And, what about Margo's writing that does not so much directly address politics or society but, rather, his own interior landscape. Would Vendler say that Margo is writing psychology rather than Poetry? Would Thomas Lux, one of my favorite poets who believes that a natural progression is for poets to move away from writing about “self,” consider Margo's poetry immature?

Certainly, years before Emily Dickinson, mainstream poets have held that enduring Poetry (poetry for “all time”) is written “slant” rather than in a straightforward, direct, and literal manner. Yet, Poetic Realism has been a respected sub-genre of The Canon since writers rebelled against Romanticism in the late 19^th Century and was clearly understood to be political—to represent a revolt against aristocratic norms. Is it possible, or, useful, to view the relatively recent wave of mostly young, counter-normative poets as, perhaps, Neo-Realists? Are these underrepresented (e.g., feminist, lesbiaan, gay, activist, gender-non-conforming, racially/ethnically minority, marginalized) poets producing a New Poetics, even, a New Aesthetics? Are Neo-Realist poets situated with the revolutionary French and Russian writers who expressed (personal, political, and social) life as it was instead of promoting Romanticism and Idealism?

Having said that, Rich and many other oppositional poets (e.g., Caseyrenée Lopez) appear to be Utopian (romantic? Idealistic?) in their philosophy, social models, and politics, a tendency that may be inconsistent with Realism. Surely, there is much material, context, and intersectionality to be evaluated in an attempt to give the new wave of outspoken poets, and their predecessors, an honored and deserved position in the Poetry community. A good place to begin to understand what these poets are about is to meet them on their own terms in journals such as Yellow Chair Review and Zoomoozophone Review in order to understand poets such as Matt Margo who is taking significant risks to honor their Truth. Finally, many of the lines (“you say 'we could eat at taco bell again'”; “the ice cream truck drives around until it no longer exists”) and poems (“washington, lincoln, lafayette;” “blessa”) in Blueberry Lemonade are stunning, deserving to be read over and over again. Indeed, this collection places Margo among the best young poets writing experimentally today.

*Originally published in Yellow Chair Review, 2015 [text corrected & slightly revised]