In my ideal life, I would keep poetry on my nightstand. In my perfect life, I would read it regularly. Sailing Alone Around the Room had been ensconced there nine weeks;* when I ran out of renewals I started reading.
Humor, the deep-from-within-the-DNA-funny, permeates this poetry.
The first poem places a neighbor’s dog in a Beethoven symphony,
while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.
The poems centered around music (and their abundance) delighted me.
I was pleased to learn a new form of poetry (I won’t mention the name); I did a search to read more. Then I roared with laughter. The joke’s on me — this is a parody! It was a small consolation that book reviewers and other poets also missed the satire.
Reading an Anthology of Chinese Poems of the Sung Dynasty,
I Pause to Admire the Length and Clarity of Their Titles
Collins always surprises me. He twists words, insisting I see life from a changed perspective.