From the "basement / of that suburban church with its sad paint / job in Texas" to an old drag queen's "parlor," "that bazaar of flounce, chintz, feathers," Clean, the award-winning collection by David J. Daniels, tears back the curtain of life to expose gorgeousness and grit. These poems pay homage to the addict, the grandmother, the closeted, and the lover, to the dead, the dying, and the living who refuse to die.
It’s rare to stumble upon a collection that provides almost no friction against my biases / impulses / knee-jerk reactions, but David J. Daniels’ collection is an exception. It feels so familiar, maybe a bit more than what I’m used to.
The poems can be a bit verbose and can use trimming, but I love everything queer that Daniels brings into these poems: the eros, the marginal, and the vindication of the othered. I want to have a drink or two with him.
Daniels gets 4 stars, or more, for his technical ability -- I like how he uses rhyme throughout, as well as structure and form, loosely or more formally. This is a solid book. However, only one poem, "Danny Starr: A Lament" made me sit up and say "wow". I liked the subject matter, too, but just... nothing grabbed me.