Self-Styled No-Child

Self-Styled No-Child

Self-Styled No-Child

Poetry. "Move over Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, Dr. Seuss, good old Anon, maybe even William Blake after how many pints of ale. Here's Cody Walker who declaims and bargains an 'icicle for a bicycle, ' a 'vale of tears for ten good years.' Political, personal, this book is playful, pithy, outrageously out of style (omg-less rhyme galore!), this gathering a dark, endearing treasure made by accident and pure will. Beware: 'The LORD shall tickle thee with a feather duster, and boot thee with a tire iron, and goose thee with an actual goose.' Are these slippery inventions--'it all unravels'--really poetry? They come out of its ancient middle distance between wake and sleep and what the hell: they mean." --Marianne Boruch"In Cody Walker's THE SELF-STYLED NO-CHILD, the poet-father sings to his new baby (read 'Cradle Song' or 'Small Suite' for perfect little servings of delight), but his childlike playfulness has an internal source, too. The light verses in Walker's new collection often have dark edges to them (see 'The Garden' or 'We Hated Our Lives'), and his social and political satires are unflinching. Still, this word-wizard with a genius for rhyme reminds us of how irrepressibly joy remains." --Mary Jo Salter
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Poetry. "Move over Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, Dr. Seuss, good old Anon, maybe even William Blake after how many pints of ale. Here's Cody Walker who declaims and bargains an 'icicle for a bicycle, ' a 'vale of tears for ten good years.' Political, personal, this book is playful, pithy, outrageously out of style (omg-less rhyme galore!), this gathering a dark, endearing treasure made by accident and pure will. Beware: 'The LORD shall tickle thee with a feather duster, and boot thee with a tire iron, and goose thee with an actual goose.' Are these slippery inventions--'it all unravels'--really poetry? They come out of its ancient middle distance between wake and sleep and what the hell: they mean." --Marianne Boruch"In Cody Walker's THE SELF-STYLED NO-CHILD, the poet-father sings to his new baby (read 'Cradle Song' or 'Small Suite' for perfect little servings of delight), but his childlike playfulness has an internal source, too. The light verses in Walker's new collection often have dark edges to them (see 'The Garden' or 'We Hated Our Lives'), and his social and political satires are unflinching. Still, this word-wizard with a genius for rhyme reminds us of how irrepressibly joy remains." --Mary Jo Salter
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