Named the "Best First Book" of poems for the year by Coldfront, this collection by Joe Pan was short-listed for the Yale Younger Poets prize, the National Poetry Series, and the Academy of American Poets’ Walt Whitman Award.
Joe Pan’s debut literary crime novel, FLORIDA PALMS, was a New York Times Editors’ Choice pick and named a Best Book of 2025 by CrimeReads, Library Journal, and the Sun Sentinel. The New York Times Book Review hailed the novel as “a musky, Florida-specific stew of sweat, blood, swamp gas and amphetamine addiction.” Joe is also the founding publisher and editor-in-chief of Augury Books and Brooklyn Arts Press, honored with a National Book Award in Poetry. He lives in Los Angeles.
I came upon Millar because his book was offered free for Kindle. Usually that means mediocrity. But if you like poetry, the book is worth a good $20 at least. Millar has a unique perspective, a very new and clear voice, and his style seems to synch with one's senses. Certainly all the honors he received for these poems are well-deserved. Thank goodness for happy accidents.
I don't really remember where I found this. But I borrowed it on Kindle and read it here and there. Despite that it's a measly 92 pages, it felt longer, like maybe 150 pages. They say poetry is something that has to be read in a slower fashion compared to fiction. Although I don't really agree with them, especially when it comes to prose poems. Or maybe I am wrong, maybe I'm the ass who's reading poetry the wrong way.
When people talk about poetry, they constantly speak of imagery, which should also be utilized in fiction too. But I feel like it should be more than imagery, it should also hit something in you too. But I feel like I talk too much about this, it's all up to the writer and the poet.
So this chapbook, with a title that is way too long and stumble worthy, has everything. From the typical poetry style, prose poem stories, odes, and who knows, maybe a sestina. I can't really say I loved this chapbook, but I will say that this guy, his poetry hand, is quite wonderful. He's great at constructing these words and images, painting a whole lot of absurdity and clarity that morphs so close together, it kind of makes your brain twitch or something.
Surrealist poetry is definitely something that occurs a lot in this book, which I don't mind. There are some that form a coherent story, with magical realism, life snippets, and other random oddities and ordinaries of life. Which is what I liked, it seemed original, it felt new, yet familiar.
But there was something about this book that overwhelmed me. There were some that were too wordy, too chocked full with everything mushed into sentences. I felt like, some of the poems were too, I don't know, too full. They felt as if they were going to combust with it's wordiness and its surrealism. It was just too much, I don't know, I kind of got a headache from a combination of reading this and school stress. But with a name like Autobiomythography, what would you expect? It nice and cool, but oh my the words. My brain, *boom*.
Cook fills To Lose & To Pretend with rambling non-sequiturs, and ultimately the collection works because the oddities manage to trace out some meaning. Or, if it's not meaning per se in the accumulation, then it is, at least, some sort of payoff. The challenge of witty poetry is to manage more than just a string of good jokes and keen observations, but by their juxtaposition to create an effect that is greater than the poem's best line. For Cook this must be particularly difficult, since his best lines are really, really good.
Does the "skittery poem of our moment" thing...but succeeds! Playful, dangerous, honest, funny, unmade. I found myself saying "did he just get away with that?" multiple times while reading--always a sign I've stumbled across something that I plan to carry around in my bag for a good long while and imitate when nobody's looking.