This fresh voice in American poetry wields lyric pleasure and well-honed insight against a cruel century that would kill us with a thousand cuts.
“Dios aprieta, pero no ahorca” (“God squeezes, but He doesn’t strangle”)–the epigraph of Machete–sets the stage for a powerful poet who summons a variety of ways to endure life when there’s an invisible hand at your throat. Tomás Morín hails from the coastal plains of Texas, and explores a world where identity and place shift like that ever-changing shore.
In these poems, culture crashes like waves and leaves behind Billie Holiday and the CIA, disco balls and Dante, the Bible and Jerry Maguire. They are long, lean, and dazzle in their telling: “Whiteface” is a list of instructions for people stopped by the police; “Duct Tape” lauds our domestic life from the point of view of the tape itself.
One part Groucho Marx, one part Job, Morín considers our obsession with suffering–“the pain in which we trust”–and finds that the best answer to our predicament is sometimes anger, sometimes laughter, but always via the keen line between them that may be the sharpest weapon we have.
Tomás Q. Morín is the author of the collection of poems Machete and the forthcoming memoir Let Me Count the Ways, as well as the poetry collections Patient Zero and A Larger Country. He is co-editor with Mari L’Esperance of the anthology, Coming Close: Forty Essays on Philip Levine, and translator of The Heights of Macchu Picchu by Pablo Neruda. He teaches at Rice University and Vermont College of Fine Arts.
I think this collection is a nice meditation on the experience of men of color, specifically Latinx men of color. Tomás recounts themes of fatherhood, racism and profiling, Catholic spirituality, structural fault, and consciousness, plus much more.
I think it’s an honest and fair collection and I really appreciate being able to read some intimacies that feel genuine and insightful. It’s a one-sitter read, and even better experienced read out loud.
One of my favorite lines that I annotated is, “I hear shame and fear are still the coins of the realm.”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I really liked the early poems and the final poem. Great rhythm in a lot of the poems too. I couldn’t find my footing with a lot of poems in the middle.
Life is a double edged blade. In this case a machete. In most cases a balance act between love and lovelessness, displacement and understanding. Where does experience appear to turn the blade? To make a mark? To show proof of active bleeding?
I feel like I really enjoyed certain poems like “Machete” “New Years Eve” “Duck Tape” and “Sartana and Machete in Outer Space” but their were others that I found I just couldn’t connect with easily (or maybe the word should be understand as sometimes they were random and ramble-y). For example, “A Sigh” and “112th Congress Blues” were maybe trying to incorporate historical figures, sayings, classic symbols, and so on but it just seemed like too much and lost its message somewhere in between. If the book had more poems that were of a similar style and theme I feel like some might have resonated more.
This was a unique and beautifully visual collection of poems. My favorites are “I Sing the Body Aquatic,” “Machete,” “Flea Circus,” “Duct Tape,” “Two Dolphins,” and “Machetes,” but really these are all exceptional and I am already rereading some of the pieces in this book.
This collection was a mixed bag for me. I found the poems at the beginning and the end more memorable than the middle. The ones that hit, though, hit hard. I'll definitely look out for more from this poet in the future.
Three stars for the cover, a poem dedicated to Jessica Alba and Danny Trejo, and the best use of 49 different translations of The Divine Comedy I've ever seen.
Would have loved this if it were a novel. A lot of the poems didn’t flow for me but I enjoyed these ones - Sartana and Machete in outer space Two Dolphins Heretic that I am Duct Tape
***Note: I received a free digital review copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.***
I’m going to be honest with you. When I first started reading Morín’s forthcoming collection Machete, I didn’t think I was going to like it—and then it snuck up on me. Pretty soon, I couldn’t stop drinking in words, even when they were sharper than a mouth full of knives. Machete is one of those collections poised to become era-defining, and I think if we somehow make it past climate change and the threat of nuclear proliferation we’ll remember it as one of the essential works of the pandemic. With its tonal shifts, manic ebullience, and hyper focus on finding the sublime in the quotidian, it is the perfect read for a world that has been forced to stand still even while it’s on fire. I can’t wait to put it in people’s hands.
Machete: Poems is due to be released on October 12th of this year and is now available to preorder wherever books are sold.
I really enjoyed this poetry collection! (And can we talk about how show-stopping that COVER is? WOW.)
These poems explore so many different topics- race and identity, the pandemic experience, love, and tremendous loss- and the result is hauntingly beautiful pieces that all fit and work together quite well. A few of my favorites were “Whiteface,” “New Years Eve,” “Vallejo,” “Life Preserver,” and the closing poem “Machetes.”
As other reviews have mentioned, some of these poems went over my head a bit because I didn’t always understand the references, but it didn’t necessarily bother me. If one got away from me, I’d just be like, welp, onto the next! And I’m really glad that I kept that attitude throughout, because there are some absolute gems in this collection that will definitely be sticking with me for a while.
This collection was really beautiful and insightful. The pieces focused on identity, facing adversity (putting it mildly), and a true sense of community and belonging. For the most part I really loved the poems with the exception of the historical based ones, those didn’t work for me and had me skimming and quickly moving on to the next one.
ARC given by Netgalley in exchange for an honest review
There was a wide range of poems represented and while it certainly was a unified collection, it was also a breath of fresh air from books that are rigid in what poems are collected. That being said, the poems certainly are enlivened & taken to new heights by virtue of being near one another.
"A Pile of Fish" was probably my favorite from this collection.
I’m not sure how to feel about this collection, though I liked some of the themes that Morín took time to explore, ranging from racism (particularly racial profiling) to fatherhood (which I feel isn’t too common in poetry, though this could just be a result of the types of poems I read). Some of these poems were deceptively simple, and I found myself rereading lines here and there to make sure I was understanding what Morín wanted to get across. It didn’t take away from the reading experience to reread, either, given the relative shortness of this collection and, in fact, made me more appreciative of the thoughtfulness in his poems.
With that said, I will say that this collection felt like a mixed bag for me, primarily because I felt that the poems were a bit all over the place in the sense that there wasn’t a followable flow to see how the ideas would come together. I think that may also be why I found myself rereading poems, mostly because I couldn’t really see the overall picture. It’s quite possible that this was intentional, but this didn’t work for me, personally.
Note: Thank you to the publisher for sending me a finished paperback copy in exchange for an honest review.
I really enjoy this writing style. The way it was stream of consciousness but punched you in the end. Every poem felt like a journey along with the writer. ‘Stanza’ was easily my favorite, and highlighted the tricks of language and association Morín played in the first part. I really enjoyed “Two Dolphins” too, because if it’s comments on gender and fatherhood, and how it felt extremely personal but still poetic. It was refreshing to get this in two parts, and feel Morín go through a self reflection on his past poems. It felt like he grew more authentic as the book went on, and everything became more personal. He was talking to us more, like a journal. I enjoyed the divide between the two sections, and how both of them were equally important. It was a nice duality of what being a poet means and how life takes you on that journey. 4 stars, not 5, just because… Well I don’t know. That seems unfair, but emotionally I wasn’t at a 5-star level. I’ll meditate on it and come back. Reading this for my poetry class did that maybe? I have a hard time emotionally connecting on an independent level with books for school. At the same time analyzing this in class was a wonderful experience.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Machete is a vivid, bright flash of whirring thoughts, emotions, and personal histories melting together into a collage of experiences. Each was bold and unexpected, a snarl hiding a soft reminisce.
This was a charged, honest meditation on modern day America, and on being a Latino man caught up in the politics over his body and being.
It was a brisk shock from one poem to the next with the razor criticisms of modern society and frequent musings on pop culture. All of the poems have clear-eyed wit, and all have a touch of a romantic in them, too.
What Machete lacked was a strong cohesive theme that could tie all the poems together more neatly. They were all over the place. If they had been sequestered in a different sequence, they would have flowed better together.
Also, I find the cover to be marvelous, because it's unexpected and funny while somehow serious, just like many of the poems inside.
*Actual review is 3.5 stars
Thanks to Knopf Doubleday and Netgalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
A Sigh In the middle of the road of our life I wandered upon a dark wood a gloomy wood a dark wood within a darksome wood a gloomy wood a wood so drear a forest dark a darkling wood within wood obscure gloomy wood darksome wood a darkling wood a forest dark and deep a dark wood through a night-dark wood within a darksome wood forest dark shadowy wood darksome wood dusky wood a forest in darkness darksome wood gloomy wood a darkling wood astray dark wood dark forest gloom-dark wood within dark wood dark wood dark wood a dark wood unfathomable dark wood dark woods wood so dark within a shadowed forest a great forest bewildered inside dark wood in a dark wood wood in this dark wood dark woods in darkened forests dark wood dark wood dark wood sunless wood in a dark forest dense cage of leaf, tree, and twig that cut through our way like a knife and we, we hardly knew the difference. (18)
“… for our country, it’s never really been about money or God but about the pain in which we trust.”
“When you see your reflection in this map, what story do the dots tell you about freedom and its promises?“
“Now I’m not saying she was a white supremacist, but she was wielding something heavy and blunt and invisible.”
Thank you so much to my friend at Knopf for sending me a copy of “Machete” poems by Thomás Q Marin… I loved it!
There is a sense of humor and even joy in this collection, but that does not mean that it is devoid of substance. With themes like bringing a child into an imperfect world, life in modern America and the racism that is ever present even when (at times) it seems invisible — this is a unique and varied collection full of the abstract and the pointed. I really enjoyed my time in these pages and amidst the love and hope and candid honest of a terrific writer.
- quite funny, lots of imagery! - some of my fav poems: -- i sing the body aquatic - "shame and fear are still the coins of the realm" -- machete - being visible, yt people?, forced niceness, saccahrine sweetness -- flea circus - i love poems about performance of identity, lecture zebras on "the hideousness of tears" -- a sigh -- sartana and machete in outer space -- life preserver - LOVE POEM -- A pile of fish - i like poems that refer to paintings -- heretic that i am - "what is love if not a commitment to fatigues" -- tried and untrue -- miles davis stole my soul
MACHETE by Tomás Q. Morín is a compassionate and confident new poetry collection. Tonally balanced between stern and playful, fierce and tender, Tomás’ poems read like deep, late-night conversations with your loving father. He explores the delicate philosophies of everyday happenings as thoroughly as the dark and feral parts of human nature. Come for the fresh and sinewy text, stay for cutting humor and bountiful heart.
Loved this. Many of the lines are powerful. It's fun, insightful, entertaining. My favorite in the collection is 'Life Preserver,' a wonderful poem about the power of love. I'm not sure self-referential poetry truly appeals to me (one of the later poems in the book refers to an earlier poem in the book, it's like breaking the fourth wall in movies and TV), but there's so much here to appreciate and savor.
I thoroughly enjoyed this collection of poetry! Morín is very good at capturing feelings and emotion in his words. There was one poem about fatherhood, Two Dolphins, that I found particularly profound in its honesty. Each poem reads like you are having coffee with the author and he is telling you a little story. Some are about himself, some are about what he witnesses. Very glad to have read this one.
4.5 rounded up. Love to hear the author read the poetry on audio, just gorgeous and reflective poems. It was honest and intimate and gave me insight into the author’s experience. Particularly loved his reflections on his own poetry baked into other poems. Looking forward to a reread after it has time to marinate in my mind.
Electric book cover. Some rlly good stuff but I found myself losing attention when I saw that each poem was a few pages long. May be my ADHD, may be the fact that my intro to poetry was rupi Kaur, or may just be that it didn’t resonate. Either way - solid read but happy it was a library book that I get to return for someone else who may resonate more :)
Some absolute gems in here. Especially when conveying the emotional experience of identities I don’t share/can’t experience first hand. (Such as being a father or being latino in the U.S.)
One on fatherhood was so good it reminded me of watching my brother interact with his young son, clouding my eyes while I was on a plane.
I really like Morín's voice here--lovely collection of thoughts about fatherhood ("Two Dolphins"), white supremacy ("Whiteface"), and peaches that look like Fidel Castro ("Heretic That I Am"). What's not to like?
I liked it but I didn't love it. I have realized mundanity is rarely enjoyable to me in literature but I was more fond of the more conceptual and elusive elements within some of Morín's poems in this collection.
I could read "A Sigh" all day. (And then to know how it was made! Frosting, cake.) "Goosestep," too. All the animals and humans here come to me with a clear-faced deadpaned beseech, which is just how I like it.