American Ephemeral

by Justin Hamm

In American Ephemeral, Justin Hamm chases down a vanishing Americana of trailer parks and pick-up graveyards with a “boozy conviction” born of the blues. Not just any blues—but that “certain kind of blues music” Dylan refers to in liner notes for The Basement Tapes, where you “can sit down and play it…you may have to lean forward a little.” And Hamm does just that, leans—“battered house Martin” in hand—camera in hand too—for this book includes a resonant counterpoint of black and white photographs that illuminate and extend the rust in these landscapes and their evaporating edges. These fine poems and photos are portraits “framed in barnwood”—of willing ghosts and of a poet willing to thread his voice with theirs before that ‘big dark leap into the empty.' ~ Dennis Hinrichsen, author of Skin Music Justin Hamm’s second collection of poems, American Ephemeral, lets loose those gorgeously-sad truths we swore to forget as we got farther down the road from them; yet, Hamm shows us there’s no escape because Buried so deep when the dust is finally blown off/ they can only imagine it a fiction that never existed at all. The narrator of these soul-folk poems atomizes us, exposing the viscera to our character, desire, and duty. The familial, the unowned miles of physical and mental highway, and the starkness of Hamm’s inner-voice are juxtaposed with a man transformed into the broke-open wildness of a boy set free to play within the subconscious neighborhood of life and death. The real-deal language, the gristly voices, and the mystic illustrations mesh in a measured-Midwestern-chaos. These poems call for how to redefine home and all those things that haunt us, but even more, these poems claim the haunted living amongst us—the souls nicknamed ghosts. This collection is an unsuspecting, raucous, Saturday-cruise down that interstate you’ve always wanted to travel, but never took the time to. NOW is your time! ~ Curtis L. Crisler, author of Don’t Moan So Much (Stevie): A Poetry Musiquarium and “This” Ameri-can-ah Justin Hamm’s American Ephemeral eloquently investigates the vastness within each human heart. Hamm implores us to lie in the grass, flat on our backs, and stare into the big skies of the Midwest, to enter this uniquely American mythos where cowboys, ham sandwiches, jalopies, and ghosts appear on every corner. Hamm sits us behind the wheel and as the AM radio plays a generic tune, we drive toward the death of a mother and the birth of a daughter at once. He “…all the seats / are filled for only God / knows how much longer.” And it’s true—these poems, and photographs, are of archival quality —almost a stay against oblivion. Of all that gleams in American Ephemeral, the impermanence of Hamm’s artistry is its most indelible and intoxicating quality. ~ Sandra Marchetti, author of Confluence and Sight Lines

Genres: Poetry

70 pages, Paperback

Published April 1, 2017

About the author

Originally from the flatlands of central Illinois, Justin Hamm now lives near Twain Territory in Missouri, where he works as a K-12 Librarian/Media Specialist in a small rural school district. His work, fiction or poetry, has appeared in numerous publications. Recent work has also been selected for the Stanley Hanks Memorial Poetry Prize from the St. Louis Poetry Center. Justin earned his MFA from Southern Illinois University Carbondale in 2005.

Reviews

[Luanne Castle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Justin Hamm’s American Ephemeral evokes the faded and windswept middle of the country with its exploration of Midwestern characters and setting, as well as the conversational, sometimes wry and sometimes heart-on-the-sleeve, style. I recognize the people and the places, and sometimes the voice goes deep within. Sometimes I was taken by surprise and left in tears by a poem:

Every so often he runs his hand
absently over the area of his chest
where beneath his plaid shirt I imagine
must live one hell of a scar
from all this business with his heart.

[Karen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have loved Justin Hamm's poetry forever (or since I read his first chapbook many years ago), and his second full length collection of poetry did not disappoint me. In this book, Hamm returns to a disappearing Midwest, where he tells the stories behind the farmers who drink their morning coffee at Mom-and-Pops restaurants or those who linger in faded trailer parks wondering about their futures. Yes, he often tells the stories of others, but he also intertwines his own narratives, often including musings about his family whether he is worried about his daughter while she dangles on playground equipment or he finds himself faced with religious questions from family members. A wonderful read!

[Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Justin Hamm's second collection gives us America in all its gritty darkness. This book swells with life even as it ponders the deaths of people who have lived their lives close to the land. Filled with photos of American landscapes, both in and outside of the buildings we construct to hold our memories, the book itself is a pictorial homage to the America we need to see, the one that doesn't appear in photographs on social media or in documentaries. These aren't quiet lives. These are the lives we live, which this poet brings into sharp focus.

[Mollie Jackman · Rating 5 out of 5]

Midwestern poet to Midwestern poet - I received this book for Christmas this morning and didn't put it down again until I finished it through tears.

There is something about Missouri poems that feels so familiar. The emotion of tiny vignettes and fleeting moments is visceral. Thank you for these.

[Brian Beatty · Rating 5 out of 5]

The poems here are imbued with honest, earned emotion that resonates at every turn. They carry real weight. They convey real moments. Hamm’s eye for detail is just as clear and controlled in the photos interspersed throughout this collection. He has deftly captured a way of life that’s quickly passing no matter your politics, faith or zip code. His personal (though not awkwardly or academically confessional) chronicle rings true well beyond the borders of his Midwestern milieu. What Hamm calls ephemeral remains essential and deserving of our attention.