On the 6th of November we huddled in the backyard of Unnameable Books on Vanderbilt to celebrate the launch of Eve Packer’s new chapbook, No Mask, No Talk: corona poems, 2020-2021. I take great pride in reviewing this book not only because I believe eve packer is a talented poet, she is, but the night was significant. It was significant because we have not seen each other in over a year. Many of the poets assembled there made it an intimate moment. I take pride because I actually had a chance to sit in a physical space and hear my peers read. It became more than a launch, it became a sort of a reunion and somehow I felt connected by the moment. Somehow the past became memory and this is where we bonded in that physical space over the years.  Usually, I take my time to read a chapbook slowly. Sometimes I have to go back and re-read to connect with a particular line. This is how my process works. This is how I connect to a poet’s poet. Many of the beautiful lines that I engaged with created this sort of tension. This poet is a narrator who uses the lens of observation; but these poems are more than observations. Imagine if the blind poet, John Milton, lived during COVID, how would he see without eyesight? This is a sort of innate ability of the narrator; a way to show and not tell. Even the title resonates for me: No Mask, No Talk. I immediately thought of Paul Laurence Dunbar in his famous poem: “We Wear the Mask.” Somehow the title is not a cliche or appropriated. This is the way the author titled the chapbook. I could feel the grief and loss emanate from the page.  When I ran into the line: here we are/ hitting the blues, I immediately thought of the blues singer and the blues lyrics. Basically a blues lyric is based on an important event. This is the way the Pink Floyd did it:  I had dreamed you have left my side No warmth, not even pride
remained And even though you needed me It was clear to me I could do Anything for you. Pink Floyd’s “A Great Day For freedom”  This is the interesting take away for me from the blues lyric because it transcends all genres. I felt deeply moved by the blues while reading the corona poems. We lived under COVD, and the blues. When the narrative voice says, “ the blues (is)at every turn.” There were moments when I felt my own sacrifice. I had to live in this sanction, isolation, and exile in my own body…. Then I had to turn the corner of your own reality. This notion of lyric and poem are somehow married and why wouldn’t it come up now during the greatest threat to our humanity; during a pandemic. The poet is sometimes criticized for capitalizing on a moment like this. It’s almost like a holiday or a death poem, every poet has written one, but these corona poems do not feel forced or cliched to me. I see the blues in every genre of my poetic life and this is the sense I feel. I can “hear music in the air,” the great gospel singer, Mahalia Jackson once chimed. It takes a certain giftedness to turn pain into genius. This narrator has accomplished this.  Some may read these poems and say, oh, these poems are about grandma or swimming, but the narrator keeps time, “in real time, no past no future/ keep the count present.” There were times, oh, where they were, when I had to keep time. I had to keep my own time. I had to busy myself with the ennui and the mundane. Sometimes it’s hard to express sensitivity alone in the dark. This is when I began to really grow. Some may not see this as revelation but I actually grew during the pandemic. I had to learn to do things I have never done before. I have to live with my body, alone, in isolation . This is one of the most vulnerable points I received from reading these corona poems. I was lonely like everyone else, but I am redeemed by these poems.  “It’s the how no longer” is what I titled this review because of the genius of this phrase. The narrator directs us throughout this sequence: what you do on your own-lighthearted ease. Soon obsolete. The narrator questions the present situation. For some of us, we never had to deal with the machinations of war or epidemic. We only rely on the History Channel or documentaries which we are forced to listen to our parents or even our ancestors. I am sick of death and death poetry, but this is more than an exquisite corpse. We have come on the other side hopefully with a greater understanding of each other. It’s the how no longer, if we want to document this age, no longer division, derision, no longer hate, genderism, and homophobia. There are changes that need to be made as cliche and preachy as this sounds. I like the preachy voice that comes up because some people need a good old fashioned preach. We sat through years of the preached word, as we call it.  Never did ask my grand- Parents abt the flu epidemic Of 1918, it wasnt on The radar. eve packer’s No Mask, No Talk: corona poems 2020-2021  When was it on the radar? This is significant because so much has been recovered by the sheer death of this age and somehow this narrator has come back to chronicle the simple and the complex. Somehow each line needs to be unpacked because we live in a society that needs the simple and the complex. I find myself relating. I have so much to do. I am hypercharged each day with something more than a demand. I am trying to survive in a body that will sometimes fail from the sheer schedule. I have too many choices and this is the damage. I will never keep up. This narrator is experienced in those things of a life lived in this generation. Living is complex.  My favorite poem in the book: 4.11.20: 7:26pm. I felt myself keeping time. The opening line is “ in five minutes.” I will probably listen to a video. I will probably answer the five missed calls or chats. In five minutes I am busy. If you buy this book, I hope you will after reading this review. Remember the bottle of wine. Remember the front door. Remember that the narrator is encouraging you to take it slow and take a look. Look at the “sun glinting off the water tower.” Look at the “blinding rays barreling across the Hudson.” We have not lost but gained. There is so much to appreciate here. I will find Horatio Street one day and sit on Jimmy Baldwin’s steps. I will finally relax from my ambition.