I
first notice the format of Jenkins’ poetry.
His poems span the page in a pseudo-paragraph form, without any meter or
pattern to the lines. Combined with his
contradictions of himself and casual language, like writing, “….well, slowed
down a bit, perhaps” in his poem “Change”, I feel as if in conversation with
this man in a coffee shop. Because of
this tone, I easily remove any obstructions to listening. He invites us into his poetry, beginning with
simple introductions: “There might be
some change on top of the dresser” in “The State of the Economy”, or “It turns
out” in “Gravity”. Then suddenly midway
in the poem you realize he has deceived you into reading profound thoughts. Mostly I like his work because of this
unexpectedness, but I also appreciate how he connects the mundane to broader
truths.
Jenkins
writes with a witty and entertaining sense of humor. This aspect of his voice creeps into the
poems just like his wisdom. After reading
the title of his poem, “The Afterlife”, I expected something sincere, yet
discovered a very funny piece. Once
again, Jenkins displays his talent for thoughtful and often sarcastic surprises.
His poems always come
from his unique and clever voice, but also address ‘you’. Sometimes the author himself becomes this
addressee, as in “You haven’t changed” from “Change” and I imagine he shares
this detail of brushing his teeth incorrectly as if he were talking to himself.
According to Jenkins, we know each other
because he declares “You and I stand at the back” in “The Speaker”. He evokes this casual intimacy in every poem,
referring to the reader and himself interacting with particular images and
scenes of daily life. Again, he creates
a conversational tone that sets the audience up for his sneak attacks of wisdom,
often finally reached with humor. Even
when I finish reading and contemplate his words, I never felt like he imparted
any deep knowledge because he wove it into his poem after making me laugh.
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