Clocking Out
To my knowledge, the
following brief review is previously unpublished (or if it perhaps appeared in Woodnotes, I still need to find the review). On 7
February 2017, I found the handwritten text for this review on a yellow piece
of lined notepaper folded into quarters, tucked into my copy of the book, dated
“25 December 1996, Winnipeg, Manitoba.” Carlos Colón, later known as Haiku
Elvis, died unexpectedly in October of 2016. See also “Remembering Carlos Colón.” Clocking Out by Carlos Colón, Shreveport, Louisiana: Tragg Publications, 1996, 54 pages, 5½ by 8½ inches, paperback. $4.00 postpaid from the author at 185 Lynn Avenue, Shreveport, Louisiana 71105-3523. [no longer available] A playful spirit pervades Carlos Colón’s Clocking Out. In between the serious moments are sparks of lightness, all keenly observed, playfully seen. About a dozen visual or “concrete” poems add whimsy to this collection where poems (mostly haiku) appear spaciously at one per page. Colón shows great stylistic range not only with visual creativity but with one-liners, three-liners, “compressed” poems such as “eyexambiguoushapes,” and one tanka. While the poet’s playfulness is enjoyable, the more conventional haiku and senryu particularly resonate with keen observation, wry irony, humour, and sharp images. One or two poems see too light (“the lovebirds / a gaggle / of giggles”), but most of Carlos Colón’s poems here are movingly serious without taking themselves too seriously. toweling off— the cold nose of a kitten emptying the classrooms a triple rainbow The following selections, in the order they appear in Clocking Out, were not part of my 1996 review, but I include them here to show additional example poems, starting with the following concrete poem I first published in Woodnotes. I recall asking Carlos if the image might be reversed, to show the cat walking to the left instead of the right (I’m not sure why I suggested that). He said that such a change wouldn’t work, because then the shape of the cat’s tail wouldn’t match the shape of the question marks. He was completely right. ??? ? ? /\ /\ ? (cat) catcatcatcat catcatcatcat a a a a t t t t somewhere on the Sgt.’s desk a “Missing Person” report zen concert— an air guitar slightly out of tune guiltripenance across the rice paper the teacher gently guides my hand (for Marian Poe) taking over the editors mailbox: haikudzu harder to read— the faded paint on his “Work for Food” sign next day across town white sheets marching on the clothesline new translation— the farmer gestures with a rutabaga chained to the desk the shell of a ballpoint pen Labor Day— fixing the hole in my hammock sound of a penny dropped on a church pew— ripples in the walnut six k places i at t once t this e new n taking my glasses the optician disappears into the wallpaper pointing my way home the starfish |