Fixer
Poems
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- $7.99
Publisher Description
A New York Times Editors’ Choice book from the author of the award-winning Tap Out – “a gritty, insightful debut” (Washington Post) – Edgar Kunz’s second poetry collection propels the reader across the shifting terrain of late-capitalist America.
Temp jobs, conspiracy theories, squatters, talk therapy, urban gardening, the robot revolution: this collection fixes its eye on the strangeness of labor, through poems that are searching, keen, and wry. The virtuosic central sequence explores the untimely death of the poet’s estranged father, a handyman and addict, and the brothers left to sort through the detritus of a life long lost to them. Through lyrical, darkly humorous vignettes, Kunz asks what it costs to build a home and a love that not only lasts but sustains.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
The affecting and lyrical sophomore collection from Kunz (Tap Out) traces an arc from instability to renewal. Relying mostly on couplets as vehicles for his speaker's observations of contemporary American life, Kunz begins the book with poems about post-divorce emotional paralysis and the consuming drudgery of dead-end work: "If you think it's a scam/ why do you keep saying yes?" The poems foreground specifics, from "Spicy Three Bean Queso" dip to lawn mower upkeep, with their matter-of-fact presentation belying the speaker's irony. The solitary death of an estranged, alcoholic father is a major subject here, with the speaker and his brothers clearing out a cluttered apartment, where they "tried to be respectful// like in a museum." Kunz is less concerned with mourning or memorializing the dead than with the steps the living take to move on. In "Night Heron," a poem heralding the arrival of new love, a couple pretending to howl like wolves find it "impossible/ to stop waking up next morning/ hoarse and happy." Kunz has written a beautiful collection about becoming "fixed," not just in the sense of repair but in the sense of finding a permanent home for oneself, even while recognizing that what's best about one's life can only be grasped in hindsight: "We miss it,/ we say, hammering// garden boxes together."
