Synopses & Reviews
Matthew Siegels disquieting first book of poems,
Blood Work, explores the inner workings of a life lived in vulnerability. The narrative voice here is vulnerable to his sicknessCrohns diseaseas well as the sickness” of loving. These poems are raw, exposed, and deeply authentic attempts to reconcile all that is difficult to look at in one life. They capture a constant striving for more: more understanding, more unfolding, more opening, in spite of a difficult and complex world; yet there are moments of quiet humor and lightness, reminding us not to take life too seriously.
Though there is plenty of darkness in Blood Work, it is ultimately a hopeful statement. The relief comes in the form of small moments of pleasure and letting go, where were brought to see the simple things: dewed grass beneath a streetlight, flowers tossed under the house and recovered, or sour strawberries at the farmers market.
Review
“These poems resist the dualities of lyric versus narrative, confessional versus impersonal, real against surreal, formal/improvisational, comic/sad. Matthew Siegel manages to tick off all the boxes at once, while remaining compulsively readable. The trick that he’s pulled off is to make a book that simultaneously tickles you and shakes you by the scruff of your neck.”—Lucia Perillo, Felix Pollak Prize judge
Review
“This unexpected book—a genuine contribution to the literature of illness—centers on containment: how we contain our blood, how blood is contained in tubes and vials, how sometimes we do not seem contained by our bodies, and sometimes the body seems to contain nothing, and even how in the face of control or self-reliance leaking away, we might manage to contain ourselves, to feel held, to feel held in place. The deceptive directness of Siegel’s debut is remarkable; in his capable hands, illness reveals how barely contained any human being is, and how we reach, alone and together, for whatever will hold us.”—Mark Doty
Review
“Siegel’s poems see the world with an immediacy and compassion that could only come from the decision to be vulnerable. It’s such a simple-seeming principle of poetry—yet it is as rare as hen’s teeth. I honor this young poet for the freshness and skill in these poems, his allegiance to the most unpretentious areas of experience, and his courage-teaching heart.
Blood Work is a wonderful first book.”—Tony Hoagland
Synopsis
This debut collection of poetry explores pain and longing, vulnerability, and the illness of Crohn’s disease, leavened by moments of quiet humor and hope.
Synopsis
Blood Work reveals what happens to the self when the body is compromised by illness. These poems explore the struggle to remain whole in the shadow of Crohn’s disease and to make a home for oneself in the body and in the world.
About the Author
Matthew Siegel is a poet and essayist living in San Francisco. He was a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University, and his works have appeared in
Indiana Review,
The Rumpus,
Tusculum Review, and
Southern Humanities Review.
Table of Contents
I
“fox goes to the fox hospital”
Blood Work
At the community acupuncture clinic
[Sometimes I don’t know if I’m having a feeling]
[And sometimes I know I’m having a feeling]
[The boy with the blackbird stitched over his heart is sad]
The electric body
II
At the edge of the field
[The heart is a dumbwaiter]
[My pills doze until I wake them]
The Heater Repair-Woman
Such Is the Sickness
What I Fail to Mention
At the Vietnamese Massage Parlor
Mother puts on my lipstick
On the way to the airport I fail to tell my father I left some meat in the refrigerator
III
[What world are you in, Mother, when you sleep]
Weather of the Body
Life Guarding
Faster
In the Dentist’s Chair
Soap
Mother washes me in the tub
Matthew you’re leaving again so soon
IV
Watching Christmas Trees Burn, Ocean Beach
For Bryan, 13, who sleeps through Li-Young Lee
The Girl Downstairs Is Crying
At the Farmers’ Market
Love Parade
By the Flowers at the Supermarket
With my face buried in supermarket flowers I spent the entire evening
[It’s true what you’ve heard about my mouth.]
Overlooking the City
V
[And because the want is the size of a building]
Living with You
In the bathroom
[He’s looking for answers he’s looking for the rough dark]
[In the kitchen Mom stands with her back to me]
[He’s become too large for his childhood bed]
Mother Drives Me in the Rain
Rain
Acknowledgments