The Drunk Sonnets

by Daniel Bailey

The second edition of Daniel Bailey's intoxicated battle cry of a sonnet sequence. From forgiveness in a beehive to tiny banquets for retired janitors, Bailey's poems have been wept and clutched and dropped all over, but they will still be there in the morning when your heart catches a shake.

The second edition features an introductory essay from Sean Lovelace and a special behind the scenes memoir by Daniel himself.

Daniel Bailey is also the author of Hallelujah Giant Space Wolf. He lives in Colorado and is from Muncie, Indiana.

Genres: Poetry

84 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

Goodreads is constantly assigning this account as the author of books I didn't write, which is fine. Whatever.

Reviews

[Ani Smith · Rating 5 out of 5]

Each sonnet is line by line brilliant. Like proper drunks some lines love you man, some lines pick fights with you, some sing. All are incredibly vividly alive. All are love.

I talk to the author about booze and girls: http://www.writers-bloc.net/2009/10/2...

[Reb · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was surprised how much I liked this little book. I thought it was going to be all I stained my sheets and I don't even know why. But it was more than that. It was tender, in an obsessive ex kind of way.

[Carolyn Lim · Rating 5 out of 5]

kind of amazing

[Sam · Rating 5 out of 5]

“I'M A LITTLE HUNGRY BUT DRUNK
I WANT FORGIVENESS IN A BEEHIVE
LIKE A DOG WITH THE BENDS IN THE ARCTIC
AND COVERED IN ICE FURS

MY FIRST PRAYER TO GOD WENT
I DON'T KNOW IF I'M DOING THIS RIGHT
MY LAST PRAYER TO GOD WENT
I KNOW FOR A FACT I'M NOT DOING THIS RIGHT

I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT AND AT DAY I DON'T WANT AWAKE
AND A BODY THAT RUSTS INTO HARD AND AND UNBELIEVABLE
I WILL BE NOT ALIVE FOREVER EXCEPT FOR THE DRY BED

MY HANDS ARE TOO SMALL TO CARRY WHATEVER THIS IS
ACTUALLY, A HABIT OF DOLPHINS THAT LIVE IN CAPTIVITY
TO EAT FISH OUT OF BUCKETS AND SLEEP IN THE SALT AND THE WATER”
—
“BODIES FLOAT WITHOUT BALLAST
AND I GUESS THAT'S WHY I'M HERE
AND I GUESS THAT'S WHY YOU'RE HERE
AND WHY, HARDLY, I STILL LOVE YOU

WE FORGOT THE ROCKS AND
WE FORGOT THE CEMENT AND
THE HEAVY SHIT IS SOMEWHERE ELSE
BUT I WANT TO BREATHE UNDERWATER

LIKE BUBBLES I WANT TO TOUCH YOUR DEAD FACE
WITH MY DEAD FACE TO LICK YOU WITH AIR
THE WEEKENDS ARE GONE AND SO ARE THE NIGHTS

I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER THE TIMES THAT I LOVED YOU
BUT I DO AND I WANT TO REMEMBER THEM LIKE I DRANK TOO MUCH
AND WHAT EVEN HAPPENED I DON'T EVEN KNOW”
—
“PRACTICALLY, I AM MAKING IT THROUGH LIFE
LIKE THE GROUND KEEPS PAYING ME TO WALK ON IT
WITH THE HUMILIATION OF KNOWING ITS STRENGTH
AGAINST MY WEIGHT AND I CANNOT WIN OR BREAK THE SURFACE

SOMETIMES IN LIFE SOMEONE SAYS HELLO
AND YOU ARE ALL, I DON'T KNOW, PLEASE
AND, I NEED YOU, COME HERE, WHERE ARE YOU
AND, I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ...

THERE'S THIS A/C UNIT AND IT'S COVERED WITH BOTTLES
AND I AM TRYING TO MAKE SENSE AT ALL, YOU KNOW
AND TRAINS KEEP WHISTLING IN THE DISTANCE

BUT WHAT HAPPENS IS I KEEP LOOKING AWAY
AND LOOKING AWAY IS ANOTHER THING
AND ANOTHER THING IS MAYBE BETTER RIGHT NOW”
—
“COME ON, YOU PEOPLE, EVERYTHING IS OK
THE CHILDREN ARE ASLEEP AND THE DOGS ARE ASLEEP
AND MY STOMACH AND HEAD ARE CONNECTED IN THIS WAY
THAT I CAN HEAR THOUGHTS LIKE PIZZA CHOKING BEER

OBVIOUSLY, THE ROOM IS SHAKING A LITTLE
TELL ME IT'S NOT, YOU ARE A LIAR IT SHAKES, BIG TIME
I AM CONTENT AND THAT IS GOOD, BUT LONELY
I REMEMBER HOW THE BODY TASTES AND HOW HARDLY GONE IT IS

TOMORROW I WILL WAKE UP AND GO TO WORK FOR A TRAINING
I WILL LISTEN AND I WILL NOD MY HEAD AND THAT'S THAT
I'LL LEAVE WORK AND LEAVE WORK AND LEAVE WORK

AND I'LL LEAVE WORK AND EAT SOME CHEAP FOOD AND I KNOW
MY HOURS WILL CONTRIBUTE TO MY MONETARY WORTH AND I WISH
I COULD BUY YOU SOMETHING FOR YOUR TIME BUT IT'S GONE”
—
“WHERE IS MY LIFE, I THINK A DONE THING
THAT I WANT TO CONTINUE FOREVER AND REMEMBER
COMPLETELY DRUNKFUL AND BEAUTIFUL TO BOOT, AS THEY SAY
WHAT HAPPENS NOW IS WE CONTINUE SEPARATELY AND THAT'S THAT

IT'S LIKE YOU ARE THERE AND I AM HERE
AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE THERE IS BUT HERE IS IRRELEVANT
THE CAPITAL BUILDING IS CRUSHING ME FROM ACROSS THE CITY
AND THE SENATORS ARE ALL GETTING MASHED UP GOOD

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE WANT LIFE TO MEAN SOMETHING
I WISH I WERE THE MOSS ON THE TREE STUMP IN ANOTHER STATE
AND WE NEVER ENDED UP SEEING EACH OTHER

I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT WHAT I DRINK EVERY NIGHT CAN MAKE ME FEEL
ANY DIFFERENT, AND I THINK WE'LL BE GONE FOREVER RIGHT NOW
I AM GONE AND YOU ARE GONE AND THAT IS IT”
—
“EVERYTHING AROUND ME IS SHAKING A LITTLE
LIFE IS HORRIBLE AND A GREAT THING TO DEAL WITH RIGHT NOW I'M TRYING TO GO ON AND IT'S WORKING
ALL I HAVE TO DO IS KEEP BREATHING AND KEEP BEATING

GOD, THIS IS AMAZING, THIS CHAIR, THIS AIR, THESE HANDS
MY BODY FEELS LIKE A SHIT GETTING SUCKED DOWN THE DRAIN
MY BROTHER IS AWESOME AND LETS ME STAY HERE AND YOU ARE NOT HERE
EVERYONE TRIES SO HARD AT EVERYTHING THAT IT'S LIKE HELL YES

I AM TRYING FOR YOU-DO YOU REALIZE THAT?
EVERYTHING IS A LITTLE DIFFERENT SINCE THE SWAMPS FORMED
IT SMELLED A LITTLE LIKE GRASS FERMENTED AND DEAD

WHEN YOUR HEAD GETS RIPPED OFF YOUR SPINE GOES TOO
TO GROW ANOTHER BODY WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA
I WANT JUST WANT A NEW EVERYTHING WITH IT”
—
“WE ARE A GARBAGE BAG STUFFED WITH BOTTLES AND NO
I CAN PROBABLY JUST HANG THE GARBAGE OUT THE WINDOW
AND LET THE STREET SMELL IT AND WE CAN STILL SMELL IT HERE
I WANT TO GET RID OF EVERYTHING ON THE FLOOR AND IN THE AIR

IN THE BREATH OF THE EVENING I PROBABLY FELT YOU
THAT'S ALL I CAN EVEN SAY TO DESCRIBE IT
I CAN'T—AND SOMEWHERE ELSE I AM SOMEONE ELSE
AND YOU ARE THE SAME WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE

THAT THERE EXISTS A PLACE FOR YOU AND ME AND ANYONE
DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING ANYMORE BECAUSE OTHER PLACES YES
I THINK THERE ARE OTHER PLACES TO MOVE ON FROM THIS

I'M JUST AN ASSHOLE WITH FLOWERS HANGING OUT OF IT
BUT EVERYONE STILLS MY FLOWERS AS TURDS
AND WHAT SMELL OF WHAT WAS I SAYING AGAIN, PLEASE?”
—
“THE ONLY THING THAT COULD MAYBE SAVE US NOW
IS GETTING OLD TOGETHER AND DYING AND THEN NOTHING
I THINK THAT THIS IS THE TIME FOR US
I HAVE WALKED THROUGH OUR CITY AT NIGHT

IT'S HARD TO IMAGINE CHANGING ANYTHING NOW
BUT WHEN I FALL IN LOVE IN THE FUTURE
WILL I EVEN THINK OF YOU OR WHAT? I DON'T KNOW
WILL YOU EVEN BE A PART OF THAT?

HERE ARE SOME THINGS I'VE SEEN TONIGHT
THAT MAKE ME THINK OF YOU OK:
CAT LITTER, THAT WAS THE FIRST

YOUR PICTURE ON THE INTERNET
WHAT ELSE, I DON'T KNOW, SHOULD I QUIT MYSPACE?
SHOULD CATS EVER PISS AGAIN?”
—
“NO ONE CAN BE COMPLETE WITHOUT THAT THING THAT COMPLETES THEM AND MAKES THEM ALIVE AND IF THAT THING IS NOT LOVE THEY ARE NOT ALIVE
AND I THINK I AM ALIVE BUT THAT LOVE IS ASTRAY

WE STAND PUNCHING WALLS AND THROWING TRASH
ACROSS THE FLOOR LIKE DUST AND IT SOAKS IN
AND WHEN WE CLEAN IT UP WE CAN ONLY THINK
WHERE HAS IT GONE FOR IT TO BE LIKE THIS

AND IF I AM NOT ALIVE LET ME BE FABRIC SOFTENER OR A LIGHT BULB OR AN OVEN OR SOMETHING OF USE
AND LET ME BE A PART OF SOMEONE'S LIFE

IN A WAY THAT MAKES LIFE EASIER AND BETTER SOMETHING THAT CAN NEVER BE HARMED OR NOTHING
THAT NO ONE CAN EVER STOP CARING ABOUT OR NEEDING”
—
“I AM NOT STILL THINKING ABOUT YOU, NO
I AM NOT STILL THINKING ABOUT YOU AT ALL
I AM NOT STILL THINKING ABOUT YOU
STILL, I AM NOT AT ALL THINKING ABOUT YOU

NOT THINKING ABOUT YOU, NO I'M NOT
WHAT AM I THINKING ABOUT? NOT YOU
IF I AM THINKING ABOUT ANYTHING, IT'S NOT YOU YOU ARE NOT A THING I'M THINKING ABOUT

WHAT SHOULD I THINK ABOUT? NOT YOU
WHAT CAN I POSSIBLY THINK ABOUT?
WHAT IS THERE TO THINK ABOUT BUT YOU?

THERE'S PLENTY TO THINK ABOUT IN THIS WORLD WHAT IN MY LIFE AM I THINKING ABOUT?
I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT YOU, THANK GOD”
—
“TONIGHT FEELS EXTREME LIKE HATE CRIMES
I HAVE SET MY COUCH ON FIRE, AND MYSELF
I KNOW IF I STAND UP I WILL JUST SIT AGAIN, EVENTUALLY
AND I WILL BE CLOSER TO THE FLOOR WITH EVERY DRINK

IT'S HARD TO ACCEPT ALL THIS LIFE RUSHING AT ME I THINK IF I HAD EMPATHIC ABILITIES I WOULD DIE
I WOULD JUST LIE DOWN AND HURT WITH EVERYTHING
I FEEL A LITTLE BIT VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW

I FEEL LIKE HIDING BEHIND THIS LINE
AND THIS LINE ATTEMPTS TO REDIRECT
AND THIS ONE IS A REMINDER OF WHY I AM HIDING

I REGRET HAVING TO TREAT THESE LAST LINES
IN SUCH A HORRIBLE AND LAZY FASHION
BUT I AM DONE WITH THIS POEM”
—
“I DON'T KNOW MANY PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED
BUT I KNOW PEOPLE WHO WILL DIE SOON
WHAT I MEAN, IS I AM GOING
TO SOME FUNERALS SOON

TODAY I WATCHED A KID PUNCH SPIDERS
INTO A WALL AND SMASH THEM TO DEATH
HE WAS LAUGHING. I LISTENED TO HIS FISTS
SMASH AGAINST THE WALL—I JUST WATCHED

HIS STEP-DAD ONCE THREW A JAR OF SPIDERS
INTO HIS BED—HE WAS FIVE
SPIDERS TERRIFY HIM

ANOTHER OF HIS STEP-DADS PUT TURDS
IN HIS BED—HE WAS A LITTLE OLDER
I DON'T KNOW IF HE'S AFRAID OF TURDS”
—
“THIS IS MY LAST BEER OF THE NIGHT
MY MISSION IS ALMOST COMPLETE
THAT SHIT IS ALMOST ALL DRANK UP
I CUT MY FINGER UP TRYING TO OPEN IT

IDON'T HAVE A BOTTLE OPENER YET, JUST A COUNTER
I'VE ALWAYS FELT THAT BLEEDING mWAS A BEAUTIFUL FEELING AND I LOVE IT
REALIZING THAT THE BODY IS MORE THAN SKIN AND FUR

GODDAMMIT, THERE IS SO MUCH INSIDE ME
THE BLOOD, THE BONES, THE MUSCLE
THE VEINS, THE FAT, THE ORGANS

I CAN'T BELIEVE MY SKIN CAN CONTAIN IT ALL
IT CAN BE OPENED SO EASILY
AND IT CAN LET OUT SO MUCH”
—
“I'D LOVE TO PUNCH THROUGH YOUR HEART LIKE DRYWALL
AND YOU WOULD CHARGE ME A DAMAGE DEPOSIT AND I WOULD GLADLY PAY IT

I THINK THE DUST WOULD SCATTER MY FACE APART LIKE I WAS LEAVING BUT YOU HAVE LEFT ALREADY
I AM WATCHING MY FEELINGS GROW SMALLER AND SMALLER

OF ALL I'VE GIVEN I DON'T THINK I'VE RECEIVED EVEN HALF
WE ARE ALL CHEATED
I AM POCKETS OUT AT THE TOLLBOOTH OF THE HEART

MMMMMM... THIS IS THAT SOUND OSUDFA
I KNOW THAT WE BOTH CARED AND EVEN LOVED
WE ARE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS YOU KNOW

I LICKED THE SPOONS THAT WE HAD SCOOPED INTO OUR HEARTS
AND I GAVE YOU TWO SCOOPS EVERY TIME—I WASN'T CHEAP”

[Reynard Seifert · Rating 5 out of 5]

Daniel Bailey does some really cool stuff in this collection. Even though he's like, a total asshole in real life - often found licking turd debris from his fingers like chocolate, or else staring into space with his mouth open, tongue slapping against his Adam's apple like some kind of freak show savant - he has made a really original collection of poems which bespeak the loneliness and isolation of a burrito-loving, 40-drinking, 20-something dude in Anytown, USA. He's a very clever guy, and poetic. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he's a clever poet. The all-caps makes it easy to read when you're as drunk as I am right now, and the cover looks good next to a pitcher of mimosas. I recommend it to everyone who likes to steal bottles of champagne from Lucky's.

[Biscuits · Rating 5 out of 5]

This collection felt nice. Not in content or poetic excellent, but on being fun and sincere (unique?) and interesting. I don't mean interesting in the way some people mean interesting as "I don't get it" or "nice try." Interesting in this case means "Wow, I actually want to keep reading" and "good job, good point."

The use of all caps, for instance, is interesting. It feels like hanging out with a drunk friend. I think the whole book kind of feels that way. I think that is the point.

I bought this after hearing Dan read. His reading voice works well with his poetic voice.

Some favorites:
10
14
24
33

[Chuck Young · Rating 5 out of 5]

I will never get over this. It's so good. I've begun reading them with my 8 year old daughter at bed time. She likes words like, "asshole," "turd," "cat litter," & "piss." But I'm hoping the other shit is sticking with her a bit. Stuff like, "BIRTHING A GHOST," "A SMALL TRIBE OF HALLELUJAHS," "FORGIVENESS IN A BEEHIVE" etc...

[Matt · Rating 5 out of 5]

I learned more ways to be awesome.

[crowjonah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’ve got decreasing (nonjudgmental) patience for drunkenness these days, but this book of heartsick poems totally won me over and reminded me of the occasional beauty of belligerence. It’s gleeful and sad and grandiose in the best way. Daniel saw me post a photo of the first edition cover, and, saint that he is, not wanting me to miss out on the added content in the second edition, sent me another copy! I’m doubly glad about the bonus book because the used copy I bought has extraordinarily inane annotations on every third poem (“weird wording,” “?,” “true,” “makes sense,” “sad,” and “he gave it his all.”) The nonsequitur and violent tendencies seem a product of the era (2012), but feel “earned” and so have aged better than I might have expected. Reading this, I felt very warmly toward Daniel, admiring of the longevity of his poetry-writing life (last year’s A Better Word for the World is also stellar), and inspired (based on my perception of his social media presence) by the way he seems to balance his work, family, and creative lives with integrity and honesty. I repeatedly thought to myself, “Daniel Bailey is a gem.”

[Daniel · Rating 5 out of 5]

i don't know why i gave my own book 5 stars. i feel shitty for having done so but that was more than a year ago (probably more like 3)

[Adam Moorad · Rating 5 out of 5]

frankly - a must read.

[Joe]

Man, Magic Helicopter does a good job making books I look forward to reading at the end of the day. Of all the sonnety "projects" I've read recently this is the only one I'm going to read again.

[Tyler Crumrine · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm glad I had to wait for the second edition's release to read this book. These poems let me know that I'm not alone. The concluding essay let me know that there is hope.

[Frances Dinger · Rating 4 out of 5]

Laugh out loud funny meditation on depression and loneliness, once you get past the all caps.

[Benjamin Niespodziany · Rating 5 out of 5]

Threw my heart against the wall. This is lovely.

[Jim Ivy · Rating 3 out of 5]

No review this time. Had too much to drink.

[madison langston · Rating 5 out of 5]

read this coming
off a bender and
it gave me every
single thing i
needed and felt
like a cold beer
while doing it

[Matt · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don't know if this collection will become the next Wenderoth-esque project or not, but it's actually pretty fun-- I guess the conceit is that these are all sonnets written when Bailey was drunk (duh!). And though I don't know how true that is, it gives the sonnets, esp those in the first half of the book, a pleasant weird feel-- there is a noticeable lack of attention and focus as the best individual sonnets progress, as if a wild hair distracted Bailey and brought him someplace else. Or, as happens in other poems, the ending is the kind of sentimental thud that I think is also a consequence of drinking too much... In other words, these poems aren't great poems on their own, but they have a kind of recognizable sympathetic magic, capturing what drunkenness feels like. Mileage, or course, may vary.

Later poems, btw, get increasingly ragged-- the early quatrains and triplets devolve into a wider variety of stanza lengths, which might be considered more or less interesting-- for me, it might have lowered the bar too much to be really rewarding to read.

[Greg Ivey · Rating 4 out of 5]

The gist of this is it's a collection of all-caps poems written by a very drunk person. They sound drunk, and accurately so, the elation, the brilliant ideas, the shouting, the tears, the microwaveable burritos. And it's gimmicky, fine, I'll give you that but it's ok. Because they're also really beautiful and ugly at the same time, and they're your drunk friend who you love shouting about epiphanies, they're a drunk uncle sobbing at Thanksgiving, they're a neighbor you don't like stumbling down the hall telling you a joke that's actually hilarious, they're you drinking alone and sobbing because you hurt and feel amazing in oscillating frequencies.

It's good. You should read it.

I did not throw this book. I put it on the table so I can read it again.