Ceilings, by Jeffrey S. Callico. Poetry. Reviewed By Lynn Alexander.
Ceilings is not at all what I expected from Jeff Callico, but there it is: simple language, clear, cool, basic. They sit there, these short lines on these open white pages. You are alone with the poems.
I am familiar with a lot of Jeff Callico’s short fiction at this point, he has a certain way of presenting language, and he is not one to embellish. He has a style that is recognizable to me now, made up of linking certain lines, his repetition, this strange deconstruction of his observations of behaviors, reducing things down.To what? To their basic elements.
Jeff can write. It isn’t that I didn’t have a high opinion of his work, or that I was dismissive. But there’s a lot going on with this guy, more than we think.
There’s love in here, resignation, people who are parting ways and accept this, people who will die under their ceilings, and accept it. People who are tenth, when being tenth means something. There is something strangely painful about these simple things, he doesn’t worry about taking a risk with the rabbit or the lock, being momentarily sentimental in a work that is stark. He knows these are odd departures, I’m convinced that he doesn’t care.
Favorites: Selected, Calculation, Roadside
Ceilings can be downloaded at The Sphere.
