I is to Vorticism by Ben Mirov

by Ben Mirov

Winner of the 2009 New Michigan Press/DIAGRAM chapbook contest, Ben Mirov's I IS TO VORTICISM is an auspicious debut from a poet to watch. "A recurring character in the poetry of Ben Mirov is Ben Mirov, part charming host, part self-inflicted lab experiment in a debut dedicated to demonstrating our daily, perilous transformations. These poems are sudden, agile, heart-strong, and as wonderfully unsolvable as their analogical title. Welcome to the surgical theater. You're finally going to learn how to sleep with your eyes open." --Dobby Gibson "These poems and parables celebrate the idea of no self, even as they sing a host of eccentric alter-egos and delightfully strange secret-identities into being. Using 'interstellar ventriloquism,' Ben Mirov is able to inhabit several worlds at once. He deftly mixes the mythic with the mundane, the literary with the cartoonish, sincerity and simulacra. The result is an impressive, often hilarious, book that truly works on many levels." --Elaine Equi

Genres: Poetry

Mass Market Paperback

First published January 1, 2010

Reviews

[Kevin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another great outing from one of my new favorite poets. Includes darkly funny moments such as: (from Orgasmanism) "When I think of our relationship/I think of a magician/with a dove in his pants/or a giraffe that must fall/six feet to be born." Bravo, Ben.

[Jon Cone · Rating 4 out of 5]

The poems of Ben Mirov come at you from odd angles. They seem about to tell you something – eat a hamburger, learn to juggle, go to the movies – but surprise you instead. One feeling is ‘nger at the cucumber’ and ‘beer is also a feeling.’ Literary and artistic allusions abound – Max Jacob, Robert Walser, James Tate, Moondog, Tu Fu, Haruki Murakami – yet these poems aren’t freighted like you might expect. They’re light, they move quickly, short efficient lines, spare images in simple language that ask the reader to leap from one line to the next. Though Mirov nowhere mentions him, Tomaz Salamun -- the Slovenian poet who will one year in the near future receive the Nobel Prize -- is a looming influence. Just as Salamun proceeds recklessly through a poem, so too Mirov. In an age when workshops distribute their polished fakery everywhere there is something incontestably courageous in writing a poem that reaches out to a final dishevelment. “No feeling is also a feeling,/a powerful one surrounded by all feelings.” The poem concludes with a wonderful fragment that ‘[f:]lows together at 4:17 in the afternoon.’ This seems an allusion to that other wonderful poem about Time’s passing: Frank O’Hara’s ‘The Day Lady Died’. Whereas O’Hara chooses to move his banal catalog of time-ridden duties to that moment where the narrator experiences a grief-filled alertness – and experiences being thrown out of time -- Mirov uses a catalog of timeless instances – narcotic, artistic, poetic, sensual – to remind us suddenly that this flowing outside of Time is nevertheless surrounded by Time: all things ‘[f:]low together at 4:17 in the afternoon.’I wish I had Mirov’s facility for producing poems with such grand aristocratic ease – at least this is the way his poems appear to me. I wish I had his material disregard for what a poem should be or sound like. And I wish I had his ability to leap from line to line, to segregate revelation and issue the results sequentially in a way that yet makes a sense. Of his parents Mirov writes: ‘They are so dear to me/like two wolves who raised me/to be nothing like them.’ [6:] A group of people playing ultimate Frisbee gives each other high-fives and this is an occasion to wonder about high-fives, what they means and what happens to them as the occasion for their display recedes throughout the rest of the evening: ‘The high-fives continue well into the night, at the bar, thought the intensity of the exchange grows less and less. For some of us the high-fives continue even longer, as we lie alone in bed.’ [23:] Loneliness kept at bay is what the high-fives are revealed to be about. The image is poignant, innocent. It suggests. The prose poem ‘Cloud of Unknowing’ is collage piece based upon an English textbook for Nepalese students: ‘How many years did the house stand after it was built? […:] Did the various automatic machines in the house realize that there was no one home in the house that day? What do you think caused the sickness and death of the dog? What happened to its dead body?’ [20:] The original writer was some kind of genius that Mirov discovered and worked on as Lish worked on Carver. And the odd title? It’s given an explanation, of sorts. This collection comes highly recommended.

[Greg Santos · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have finished reading Ben Mirov’s book I Is To Vorticism.

I henceforth promise to re-read I Is To Vorticism. I encourage you to do so, too.

Oh, and you do not need to know about the Vorticism art movement to enjoy I Is To Vorticism.

Ben Mirov appears as a frequent character in I Is To Vorticism. This speaker plays emotional bumper cars with your thoughts and emotions.

Ben Mirov goes from wry and hilarious in one line to earnest and tragic in the next. Or from intimate and self-effacing to brash and mischievous. Bold associative leaps and vivid images are also hallmarks of these fine poems.

After reading I Is To Vorticism, I feel like I have been given access to the magical labyrinthine head of Ben Mirov. The universe in his head reminds me of the movie, Pan’s Labyrinth. This universe is both enchanting and haunting.

Thank you, Ben Mirov. Thank you for giving us access to your brain. It is a fine-looking brain.

Here is a small sampling of some of my favorite lines from I Is To Vorticism:

“I stare out of my window with a flashlight behind each eye.”
from The Braille Of Evenings Is Written In Poem

“Smell her ear, part of a star
that exploded when you were negative
10,000 years old. It smells like vanilla.
In a few hours she is gone.
In four years, even goner”
from Hider Roser

“I love my fucking life.
Even my secrets
and the terrible things I’ve done.
They’re like small smooth stones
in a green plastic bottle
with no label.”
from Monkey Heart

“I look into the aquarium. My Ben Mirov looks ok. I feed him tasteless whole-grains and leafy greens like the manual tells me. He types like two hours a day. He looks pretty good.”
from Lifetime Achievement

“Now open your eyes.
Not those eyes.
The ones inside you.”
from Candles

“You feel like a scorpion
beautiful, deadly
made of black glass.”
from Symptoms