This is a humble chapbook: “I’ve removed Myself From The Kitchen”. It isn’t published by a major publishing house either. It looks home made, could be that’s what it is. But the poetry inside is anything but minor. Olivia Gatwood has that country girl look, though she now lives in the metropolis of Albuquerque, New Mexico. She started writing at an early age and could be what you would call a prodigy. With the depth of feeling, form and insight she displays at 19 years old, in 20 years she has a shot at acceptance into the ranks of the immortals. Could happen. Don’t want to say too much…let’s just say “break a leg” to wish her well.
Olivia knows how to juxtapose. To string phrases and feeling along, then cut back at cross angles at the exact perfect time. Just before the reader tackles her drift and brings her down for a loss of a yard or two for going on too long. Lyrical, then staccato, threading the boundary, never crossing the line, or if she does, she gets away with it. I could feel her joy as she reaches for perfection in phrase; for the satisfaction in a line whittled away of everything but itself.
The Title Poem addresses the mystery of football viewing. One of the best I’ve seen so far. Now if she could just explain soccer. There is a question here that’s yet to be fully expounded. Can sports fanaticisms ever be anything other than pathological? Does it expand a man, or merely fill a hole in his soul? Olivia has a great poem here, but perhaps we’ll never know the answer to this question.
At the end of the poem it’s two people reaching across the void, groping for connection.
Like it almost always is:
And while it’s hard for me to cradle a conversation
With this mammoth of a man
Making broken small talk
Like fucked up origami
It’s messy and uneven
While we both search for something to call common
I know we both know what it’s like
To need something to hold onto
La Llorona walks out of Folklore and onto the Albuquerque streets; Feminist mythological horror arises from the Greek in Olivia’s fresh treatment of ancient myth…
I’ve seen it performed live, and a 100 pound pretty young lady can truly shock a crowd. Just keep repeating to yourself: It’s a persona poem, a personal poem, etc.
To revive a poorly treated stock phrase: “It’s all good”. “The Falling Season is a stand out. And the little tome comes to an end with “Marilyn”. Not an elegy, nor tribute, more a passionate yet even-handed treatment of a legend and what she still means. In a better world it would be Bella Azbug that was the legend, not Marilyn Monroe. But not in this world Olivia. Men are shallow and woman are only an inch deep as well… Eventually we come to terms, and turn human disgusting nature to our advantage.
Only children love their parents regardless of how they look. Even Mothers prefer their good-looking children over the others in their homely brood.
“Who are these hollow-eyed beauties of whom we so fondly speak?
Everyman’s dream, but their own worst nightmare.
Beautiful…
Olivia Gatwood is a young poet who currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico. After moving out of the country at age 10, she discovered writing as a new past time. What was once short stories, soon became short poems and eventually she ventured into the world of slam poetry. Olivia has been a part of the Albuquerque Youth Slam team for the past two years and was featured on HBO’s Brave New Voices in October of 2010. Her first chap book “I’ve Removed Myself from the Kitchen” will be released April 18th, 2011. In the future, Olivia plans to be a part of the Albuquerque Slam Team. Within the next year, she hopes to move to a larger city and will publish a book by 2015.
