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Todd Cirillo’s fiercely buzzing poems in his new collection, Kisses From A Straight Razor (Epic Rites Press-2020) represent a cross between Bukowski and Corso but are more replete with the longing and love equally reminiscent of Creeley and Duncan. Simplicity, humor, and straightforwardness mark Cirillo’s style, but there is no boredom, and any person who samples his work will want more upon finding the tales of young love and longing briskly moving along like hoboes on a Louisiana freight train. This from Cirillo’s biography contains the core kernel, “Todd lives in New Orleans, Louisiana where he seeks out shiny moments and strange wisdom.” One good example is this short poem,
Wanting When I completed my last poem and left the stage, she approached placed her hand on my shoulder made direct eye contact and said, “I want to see more.” I hope we are on the same page with this one. --Ed Coletti, poet, painter Apollo Blue’s Harp |
www.screamingwithbrevity.com/review-burning-evidence-todd-cirillo/
Review appeared in Screaming with Brevity written by Matthew J. Hall
A Review: Burning the Evidence by Todd Cirillo
Todd Cirillo’s Burning the Evidence, published by Epic Rites Press, is one of those rare collections where the poetry begins before the first page is turned. The front cover’s photograph captures a darkened place, illuminated by a woman holding an un-capped and ignited Zippo. The flame only provides the slightest impression of this mysterious woman’s right breast, a partial yet clear right bicep in a short-sleeved and striped garment and three fingers holding the lighter, the index fingernail is varnished, electric pink. Had I not been given a review copy of this book I would have purchased it on the strength of its cover design alone. And I would have been right to do so. Much like the woman of mystery, the poems she represents are stripped of the details that rightly belong to the reader. Cirillo’s Zippo woman becomes my Zippo woman as I unintentionally begin to complete her features and personality. Like any meaningful relationship, the one between writer and reader is burdened by obstacle and compromise. The following poems are clearly the work of a well-practiced writer who has learnt how to massage his reader’s agenda into submission, making clear the path for his own. He is a poet who understands the intimate and somewhat tenuous bond between writer and reader; an author who not only recognises, but utilises, the wide range of memory, emotion and opinion a reader brings to a book.
In place of the back cover’s usual blurb and praise, there is a well-chosen poem from the book, which represents the overriding theme and the pared down style of the poems within.
Today’s Forecast
The day began –
it was sunny and warm,
blue sky and barbecues blazing.
Then the wind, rain and darkness fell.
Hail shattered windshields
leaving glass thrown
up and down the street,
pieces of trees were everywhere.
I stood and looked down the block –
it reminded me
of every great relationship
I’ve ever had.
(Today’s Forecast, quoted in full, from the back cover and p 58)
I audibly groan when I think back to all the time I wasted during my early literary efforts, reading all those bloody articles on various “writing” blogs, pertaining to good writing. Almost without exception, all of those articles lamented on the woes of writing about writing; a contradiction in terms by very definition and one that, thankfully, Cirillo defies as he writes about writing poetry, reading poetry, day-to-day poetry and indeed, the poetry that comes along once in a lifetime.
In the poem, I Fell In Love With A Poet, our narrator – as the title suggests – recalls his dalliance with a fellow poet.
…her words are so good
that I will end up
stealing them one day.
Not whole poems,
but a word or two,
a line she says
when we wake up
in the hungover morning
or as she reaches over me
for a cocktail napkin,
pen in one hand,
burning cigarette
in the other
without spilling her drink,
the coolest person
in the place.
(from I Fell In Love With a Poet, p 14)
A truly terrible combination; two poets together, an unholy union of hellish personality traits resulting in this beautiful poem which brings to mind words from T. S. Eliot, immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
Cirillo’s women are, without exception, femme fatales. They drink, smoke, tend bar, hook up with weird and destructive types and on occasion, shoot a .357 Magnum with deadly precision.
Pretty Smile
It’s a strange moment
when the bartender
smiles at me
from the other end
of the bar.
I never know
if it’s because
she wants my money
or my number,
or because
she knows
she can get both.
(Pretty Smile, p 20)
True to the mystery of the front cover’s woman, this woman’s only definite is a pretty smile, allowing me, the reader, to fulfil my part of the deal by the completion of her particulars; she is a few inches proud of five foot, brunette, has a mischievous glint in her brown eyes and, like God, is capable of giving and taking away.
You would be misinformed if I were to describe this book as a collection of bar poems, but wherever you are in terms of page number, you are never too far away from one of Cirillo’s bars. They are the type of bars that no longer exist in my part of the world; visiting them in Burning the Evidence has been a wonderfully nostalgic affair. They are the taverns, pubs and bars that the heartless, money-hungry fucks have driven out of business. They are now in the hands of the greedy whose only concern is a profit margin. These are smoke free and classless. They are dressed up as family joints, which means that every time you leave your bar stool for a cigarette in the rain, you trip over a jittery seven-year old who’s running around, wired on processed junk and sugary drinks. They don’t even have a fucking jukebox!
Cirillo’s bars are where men and women go to smoke and drink in the company of like-minded people, and the bartender knows how to pour a drink and talk, or pour a drink and not talk, depending on the order of the day.
“Do you have a drink menu?”
she giggles to the bartender.
“No” the bartender responds.
“You don’t HAVE a drink menu?”
“No honey, we make it up as we go along.”
(from Shot and a Beer Joint, p 25)
While alcohol and romance are staples within this work, there is far more to this book than idle drinking and gratuitous sex.
She asked me,
“What do you write about?”
In a moment of total honesty,
I told her,
“Booze, broken hearts and blowjobs.”
(from Cash Ain’t Always King, p 56)
There are more broken hearts than blowjobs in this collection and while booze is a constant, it is never the sole focal point. In the poem, The Only Sound Tonight, the poet pays tribute to loneliness, acknowledges its sovereignty, its power to come and go, dominating as it pleases. In, Don’t Forget, friendship is celebrated; real friendship, of the type where knowing that you are sharing time and space, breathing in the same air as a particular person is compensation enough for all the dreary days gone and those yet to come. The poem, Who Knew, is as much a tribute to the ubiquitous she, as it is to the blues and its ability to heal. In the title poem, Burning the Evidence, a piece about the odds being stacked against the creative mind, we find an artist who knows that it is better to be killed by that which you love, than to live with all that you hate.
Perhaps, our only option
is throw gasoline all around us,
flick the Zippo
high into the air,
burning the evidence
of ourselves
to become stars.
(from Burning the Evidence, p 40)
Burning the Evidence is about intense moments of friendship. It is for those who need a little dysfunction in order to function. It is a platform for shared experience. It is made up of love poems, but the love here is a sickness, a drug, an addiction. And Todd Cirillo is one of those recovering addicts who always wants more. Not because he doesn’t know better; regardless of lessons learnt, he can’t help but open himself up to that hard-drinking poet, who has a cigarette clasped between her lips, an uncapped and ignited Zippo in her right hand and a .357 Magnum in her left.
***************
Title: Burning the Evidence
Author: Todd Cirillo
Publisher: Epic Rites Press
Publication Date: January 2017
Price: $10.00, paperback
Page count: 70
Review appeared in Screaming with Brevity written by Matthew J. Hall
A Review: Burning the Evidence by Todd Cirillo
Todd Cirillo’s Burning the Evidence, published by Epic Rites Press, is one of those rare collections where the poetry begins before the first page is turned. The front cover’s photograph captures a darkened place, illuminated by a woman holding an un-capped and ignited Zippo. The flame only provides the slightest impression of this mysterious woman’s right breast, a partial yet clear right bicep in a short-sleeved and striped garment and three fingers holding the lighter, the index fingernail is varnished, electric pink. Had I not been given a review copy of this book I would have purchased it on the strength of its cover design alone. And I would have been right to do so. Much like the woman of mystery, the poems she represents are stripped of the details that rightly belong to the reader. Cirillo’s Zippo woman becomes my Zippo woman as I unintentionally begin to complete her features and personality. Like any meaningful relationship, the one between writer and reader is burdened by obstacle and compromise. The following poems are clearly the work of a well-practiced writer who has learnt how to massage his reader’s agenda into submission, making clear the path for his own. He is a poet who understands the intimate and somewhat tenuous bond between writer and reader; an author who not only recognises, but utilises, the wide range of memory, emotion and opinion a reader brings to a book.
In place of the back cover’s usual blurb and praise, there is a well-chosen poem from the book, which represents the overriding theme and the pared down style of the poems within.
Today’s Forecast
The day began –
it was sunny and warm,
blue sky and barbecues blazing.
Then the wind, rain and darkness fell.
Hail shattered windshields
leaving glass thrown
up and down the street,
pieces of trees were everywhere.
I stood and looked down the block –
it reminded me
of every great relationship
I’ve ever had.
(Today’s Forecast, quoted in full, from the back cover and p 58)
I audibly groan when I think back to all the time I wasted during my early literary efforts, reading all those bloody articles on various “writing” blogs, pertaining to good writing. Almost without exception, all of those articles lamented on the woes of writing about writing; a contradiction in terms by very definition and one that, thankfully, Cirillo defies as he writes about writing poetry, reading poetry, day-to-day poetry and indeed, the poetry that comes along once in a lifetime.
In the poem, I Fell In Love With A Poet, our narrator – as the title suggests – recalls his dalliance with a fellow poet.
…her words are so good
that I will end up
stealing them one day.
Not whole poems,
but a word or two,
a line she says
when we wake up
in the hungover morning
or as she reaches over me
for a cocktail napkin,
pen in one hand,
burning cigarette
in the other
without spilling her drink,
the coolest person
in the place.
(from I Fell In Love With a Poet, p 14)
A truly terrible combination; two poets together, an unholy union of hellish personality traits resulting in this beautiful poem which brings to mind words from T. S. Eliot, immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
Cirillo’s women are, without exception, femme fatales. They drink, smoke, tend bar, hook up with weird and destructive types and on occasion, shoot a .357 Magnum with deadly precision.
Pretty Smile
It’s a strange moment
when the bartender
smiles at me
from the other end
of the bar.
I never know
if it’s because
she wants my money
or my number,
or because
she knows
she can get both.
(Pretty Smile, p 20)
True to the mystery of the front cover’s woman, this woman’s only definite is a pretty smile, allowing me, the reader, to fulfil my part of the deal by the completion of her particulars; she is a few inches proud of five foot, brunette, has a mischievous glint in her brown eyes and, like God, is capable of giving and taking away.
You would be misinformed if I were to describe this book as a collection of bar poems, but wherever you are in terms of page number, you are never too far away from one of Cirillo’s bars. They are the type of bars that no longer exist in my part of the world; visiting them in Burning the Evidence has been a wonderfully nostalgic affair. They are the taverns, pubs and bars that the heartless, money-hungry fucks have driven out of business. They are now in the hands of the greedy whose only concern is a profit margin. These are smoke free and classless. They are dressed up as family joints, which means that every time you leave your bar stool for a cigarette in the rain, you trip over a jittery seven-year old who’s running around, wired on processed junk and sugary drinks. They don’t even have a fucking jukebox!
Cirillo’s bars are where men and women go to smoke and drink in the company of like-minded people, and the bartender knows how to pour a drink and talk, or pour a drink and not talk, depending on the order of the day.
“Do you have a drink menu?”
she giggles to the bartender.
“No” the bartender responds.
“You don’t HAVE a drink menu?”
“No honey, we make it up as we go along.”
(from Shot and a Beer Joint, p 25)
While alcohol and romance are staples within this work, there is far more to this book than idle drinking and gratuitous sex.
She asked me,
“What do you write about?”
In a moment of total honesty,
I told her,
“Booze, broken hearts and blowjobs.”
(from Cash Ain’t Always King, p 56)
There are more broken hearts than blowjobs in this collection and while booze is a constant, it is never the sole focal point. In the poem, The Only Sound Tonight, the poet pays tribute to loneliness, acknowledges its sovereignty, its power to come and go, dominating as it pleases. In, Don’t Forget, friendship is celebrated; real friendship, of the type where knowing that you are sharing time and space, breathing in the same air as a particular person is compensation enough for all the dreary days gone and those yet to come. The poem, Who Knew, is as much a tribute to the ubiquitous she, as it is to the blues and its ability to heal. In the title poem, Burning the Evidence, a piece about the odds being stacked against the creative mind, we find an artist who knows that it is better to be killed by that which you love, than to live with all that you hate.
Perhaps, our only option
is throw gasoline all around us,
flick the Zippo
high into the air,
burning the evidence
of ourselves
to become stars.
(from Burning the Evidence, p 40)
Burning the Evidence is about intense moments of friendship. It is for those who need a little dysfunction in order to function. It is a platform for shared experience. It is made up of love poems, but the love here is a sickness, a drug, an addiction. And Todd Cirillo is one of those recovering addicts who always wants more. Not because he doesn’t know better; regardless of lessons learnt, he can’t help but open himself up to that hard-drinking poet, who has a cigarette clasped between her lips, an uncapped and ignited Zippo in her right hand and a .357 Magnum in her left.
***************
Title: Burning the Evidence
Author: Todd Cirillo
Publisher: Epic Rites Press
Publication Date: January 2017
Price: $10.00, paperback
Page count: 70
Bold Monkey Book Review/ Interview Todd Cirillo Burning the Evidence (Epic Rites Press, 2017) 70 pages. Review and interview conducted by George Anderson
Burning the Evidence is the latest collection of poetry by the New Orleans resident and co-founder and editor of Six Ft. Swells Press Todd Cirillo. Some of the poems have originally appeared in small press mags such as Red Fez, Lummox Journal, Tree Killer Ink, Heavy Bear, Rattlesnake Press and others.
The collection consists of 45 poems, mainly free verse narratives written in a simple, pared back confessional style. The poems characteristically sparkle with good humour and a cheeky self-awareness. The subject matter often focuses on his relationship with women, flirting with gorgeous bar staff, chance meetings and his humorous observations of his life as a poet.
In a recent interview with BM, (which appears at the end of this review) Todd Cirillo says candidly about his writing method, “I hold no regular writing routine except for carrying around a small notebook, placing myself onto the railroad tracks for inspiration or creativity to roll over me and having the guts or stupidity to write it down.”
Cirillo typically sees things in terms of images, as snapshots, “I write when inspired, which usually takes the form of an image. Almost like a still polaroid that appears before me, could be an actual image or sound, a line someone says, or the way she stands, a simple shiny moment that I pick up.”
Cirillo certainly takes a lot of snapshots of women, perhaps a dozen or more different women appear in this collection. He is characteristically affectionate, good-humoured, respectful and highly appreciative. Asked about his serial attraction to women, Cirillo adeptly says:
“I do write about women often. I say that with pride. I create composites or become inspired by a single person who shines and offers me something extraordinary, whether they know it or not; strangers or significant others. I might add that I also write poems about males as well but females have always been my touchstones. Women can provide pure comfort or chaos, sometimes both and that’s wonderful for me. I tell people that everything I write is a love poem in some form or another and I believe that. I’m in this constant search for love and always hold the belief that it’s going to happen this time or….the next or…the next, no matter how bruised, broken or betrayed I get…I am a true sucker for punishment or possibility.”
In the poem “Those Little Words That Change Everything” the speaker closely observes a young woman he chances upon in the street handing out flyers for an upcoming concert. Cirillo raises our expectations in how he can use his words to befriend the girl, but in the end he is cool and moves on from there.
Those Little Words That Change Everything
She is stunning
with a dishevelled style,
wears purple glasses,
no ring,
flashes a great smile,
bounces through the crowd
with an athletic way
handing out flyers
for a free concert
this weekend.
I promise myself
that if she comes my way
I will tell her
Those little words
That can change everything.
I watch her
move through the people
and don’t care what they are thinking,
then she is in front of me,
smiling,
small hand with flyer outstretched.
I take it and ask her name,
introduce myself
and fulfil my promise
by saying all those little words
to her.
She keeps smiling.
At the end I ask,
“Do you have a significant other?”
she touches my shoulder,
leans in close
and whispers
those little words
that change everything,
“Of course I do.”
(reprinted with the permission of the poet)
In this collection, Cirillo is certainly in search of the next girl. Or his next drink. Or his next poem. The poems typically have a feel-good flavour about them which refreshingly tend to gloss over or avoid darker thoughts and the inevitable complications which spark from evolving relationships.
The poems are usually anecdotal or fuelled by the use of an extended metaphor. There is often a wry and knowing tone when relationships inevitably fall apart. Cirillo’s voice is resolutely cheeky but sometimes self-mocking.
In the opening poem “Perspective”, for example, the persona, presumably Cirillo, admits jokingly that although he has split amicably with his girlfriend they may later explain to their friends:
We agree to say
it was not you
and it was not me.
But really,
we know,
deep down
that next time
we are at the bar
telling our story,
we will say
it was definitely
you.
In one of the better poems in the collection “Who Knew”, Cirillo provides us with an intimate, ironic portrait of how a couple can come to love the blues:
Who Knew
There are days
when we
will put on nothing but
Sonny Boy, The Wolf,
Mississippi John Hurt,
Muddy, Son House,
John Lee Hooker
And, of course,
Robert Johnson.
She will pick an album
then I will pick an album.
We will go through
breakfast, lunch
and dinner,
kissing in between,
laying in the grass
talking about clouds,
holding hands,
alternately putting
our heads into
each other’s lap.
In the background-
cotton fields, trains,
devils, jealous lovers
and broken hearts.
Who knew
the Blues
could make us
this happy?
(reprinted with the permission of the poet)
Asked about the good humour and levity in his writing, Todd Cirillo says, “First off, my overall life view is pretty optimistic. I love a good time and enjoy the lighter and more relaxed side of existence to be sure. Humour is a necessity for poetry because it is rare. I think that some poets tend to kill poetry mostly, especially at poetry readings. I say let the audience have a good time, give them a good time. We know horrific things exist in the world but sometimes it is good to just be reminded of the fun side too.”
As a public performer and poet Cirillo’s main purpose is to entertain his audience. His style is exceedingly clear and it is easy to understand his work upon first reading. This is a philosophy he has deliberately adopted with the influence of other West Coast poets, such as Bill Gainer, Will Staple, Julie Valin, Matt Amott and Annie Menebroker in the After-Hours Poetry movement which began as early as 2003 with the publication of the book ROXY (R.L. Crow Publications).
Cirillo continues this legacy. He says selflessly of his own commitment to bringing art to the masses:
“The philosophy remains, if the poet has to explain their poem to the audience then the poet has failed. This is poetry for truck-stops, bowling alleys and barrooms. We became known for not only the accessibility of our poetry but the shows we put on, which were rowdy and unpredictable (in the best way) and the support this group of poets have for one another. We also share a deep love for drinking, late-nights, craziness, barrooms, jukeboxes and Tom Waits.”
Cirillo says that the title poem “Burning the Evidence” was the last poem to be slotted into the collection and it is far more serious, and in some ways, more complex and powerful than the feel-good poems which crowd it. A couple of days ago, Cirillo explained the political context in which the poem was conceived:
“The poem was written in mid-October and I suppose the U.S. election was in my psyche in as much as I had a gross and twisted thought Trump would win. Maybe the underlying thought is, the rich stay rich, the poor stay poor and those with power like to hold onto that power at all costs. The last line really reflects that feeling; this election especially was a “filthy set up” but then again most of this life is as well; the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor. People vote or act against their own interests for the sake of feeling right or powerful, politicians do not give a shit about main street, especially today. Politicians have zero integrity and even if individuals attempt to live with integrity and get away with even that little bit, some sonofabitch will slap us down in one form or another. When I wrote the poem, I felt we (this nation) was on the verge of a national disgrace and now I believe Trump validates that almost daily. It’s disgusting.”
It’s difficult to disagree with Cirillo no matter your political leanings. The poem “Burning the Evidence” is about 100 lines in length and is easily the longest in the collection. It is a lament in which Cirillo voices his concern, that despite all our efforts in trying to beat the system- “feeling that we are winning/ one step ahead”- that the “odds are stacked against us” and “the world comes out on top” and “it will take away/ all we have/ and all we ever want.”
Cirillo’s solution is surprisingly anarchistic, perhaps a melancholic slip of the cog. He more or less says in a moment of desperation to fuck it all, to burn the “whole filthy/ set up” down:
Those moments
when it feels as though
the odds are stacked against us,
our motorcycle hits loose gravel,
and we hear the hounds closing in.
Perhaps, our only option
is throw gasoline all around us,
flick the Zippo
high into the air,
burning the evidence
of ourselves
to become stars.
Let the world
make its perfect getaway
leaving us
with only the ashes
of what we thought
was a clever
and brilliant scheme-
forever shining down
on the whole filthy
set up.
Yet Todd Cirillo makes it clear in the following interview with BM that his overall intent is not political but personal– that we need to return to establishing connections between people:
“I am not a poet who believes that a poem will/can change the world any longer, that time has passed for poetry. Poetry was once the top of the creative mountain but has been replaced with expediency and other art forms. My thought/feeling is that poetry has to return to the beauty and necessity of an interpersonal connection between two people, transmitting a feeling or emotion and allowing the other person to take it with them and hopefully, if the poet is good, that individual did not begin as a poetry fan but they are now.”
In Cirillo's insightful podcast with Marcia Epstein “Talk With Me” (December 2016), he compacts further this salient idea which is at the core of his poetics, “I’m not big on political poetry. There is enough war and tragedy in the world, but as a poet, it has always been important for me to write from the heart- be it laughter or something sensual. You have to laugh to fall in love.”
Burning the Evidence is a highly accessible and enjoyable collection to read. You can read it countless times and continue to get more out of it and to change your list of favourite poems. Yet lurking at the back of our minds is Cirillo’s impulsive, crazy idea, as represented in the title poem, that life’s fucked, and perhaps in moments of existential crisis, there is always the temptation to flick the Zippo.
Biography: Todd Cirillo loves good times and shiny moments. He lives in New Orleans so there are plenty of those to be found. His latest book is Burning the Evidence (Epic Rites Press). He can be found at afterhourspoetry.com
Buy the book here: https://www.amazon.com/Burning-Evidence-Todd-Cirillo/dp/1926860586%3FSubscriptionId%3DAKIAIS3LK4ULG464ALIA%26tag%3Dleebrii-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3D1926860586
Burning the Evidence is the latest collection of poetry by the New Orleans resident and co-founder and editor of Six Ft. Swells Press Todd Cirillo. Some of the poems have originally appeared in small press mags such as Red Fez, Lummox Journal, Tree Killer Ink, Heavy Bear, Rattlesnake Press and others.
The collection consists of 45 poems, mainly free verse narratives written in a simple, pared back confessional style. The poems characteristically sparkle with good humour and a cheeky self-awareness. The subject matter often focuses on his relationship with women, flirting with gorgeous bar staff, chance meetings and his humorous observations of his life as a poet.
In a recent interview with BM, (which appears at the end of this review) Todd Cirillo says candidly about his writing method, “I hold no regular writing routine except for carrying around a small notebook, placing myself onto the railroad tracks for inspiration or creativity to roll over me and having the guts or stupidity to write it down.”
Cirillo typically sees things in terms of images, as snapshots, “I write when inspired, which usually takes the form of an image. Almost like a still polaroid that appears before me, could be an actual image or sound, a line someone says, or the way she stands, a simple shiny moment that I pick up.”
Cirillo certainly takes a lot of snapshots of women, perhaps a dozen or more different women appear in this collection. He is characteristically affectionate, good-humoured, respectful and highly appreciative. Asked about his serial attraction to women, Cirillo adeptly says:
“I do write about women often. I say that with pride. I create composites or become inspired by a single person who shines and offers me something extraordinary, whether they know it or not; strangers or significant others. I might add that I also write poems about males as well but females have always been my touchstones. Women can provide pure comfort or chaos, sometimes both and that’s wonderful for me. I tell people that everything I write is a love poem in some form or another and I believe that. I’m in this constant search for love and always hold the belief that it’s going to happen this time or….the next or…the next, no matter how bruised, broken or betrayed I get…I am a true sucker for punishment or possibility.”
In the poem “Those Little Words That Change Everything” the speaker closely observes a young woman he chances upon in the street handing out flyers for an upcoming concert. Cirillo raises our expectations in how he can use his words to befriend the girl, but in the end he is cool and moves on from there.
Those Little Words That Change Everything
She is stunning
with a dishevelled style,
wears purple glasses,
no ring,
flashes a great smile,
bounces through the crowd
with an athletic way
handing out flyers
for a free concert
this weekend.
I promise myself
that if she comes my way
I will tell her
Those little words
That can change everything.
I watch her
move through the people
and don’t care what they are thinking,
then she is in front of me,
smiling,
small hand with flyer outstretched.
I take it and ask her name,
introduce myself
and fulfil my promise
by saying all those little words
to her.
She keeps smiling.
At the end I ask,
“Do you have a significant other?”
she touches my shoulder,
leans in close
and whispers
those little words
that change everything,
“Of course I do.”
(reprinted with the permission of the poet)
In this collection, Cirillo is certainly in search of the next girl. Or his next drink. Or his next poem. The poems typically have a feel-good flavour about them which refreshingly tend to gloss over or avoid darker thoughts and the inevitable complications which spark from evolving relationships.
The poems are usually anecdotal or fuelled by the use of an extended metaphor. There is often a wry and knowing tone when relationships inevitably fall apart. Cirillo’s voice is resolutely cheeky but sometimes self-mocking.
In the opening poem “Perspective”, for example, the persona, presumably Cirillo, admits jokingly that although he has split amicably with his girlfriend they may later explain to their friends:
We agree to say
it was not you
and it was not me.
But really,
we know,
deep down
that next time
we are at the bar
telling our story,
we will say
it was definitely
you.
In one of the better poems in the collection “Who Knew”, Cirillo provides us with an intimate, ironic portrait of how a couple can come to love the blues:
Who Knew
There are days
when we
will put on nothing but
Sonny Boy, The Wolf,
Mississippi John Hurt,
Muddy, Son House,
John Lee Hooker
And, of course,
Robert Johnson.
She will pick an album
then I will pick an album.
We will go through
breakfast, lunch
and dinner,
kissing in between,
laying in the grass
talking about clouds,
holding hands,
alternately putting
our heads into
each other’s lap.
In the background-
cotton fields, trains,
devils, jealous lovers
and broken hearts.
Who knew
the Blues
could make us
this happy?
(reprinted with the permission of the poet)
Asked about the good humour and levity in his writing, Todd Cirillo says, “First off, my overall life view is pretty optimistic. I love a good time and enjoy the lighter and more relaxed side of existence to be sure. Humour is a necessity for poetry because it is rare. I think that some poets tend to kill poetry mostly, especially at poetry readings. I say let the audience have a good time, give them a good time. We know horrific things exist in the world but sometimes it is good to just be reminded of the fun side too.”
As a public performer and poet Cirillo’s main purpose is to entertain his audience. His style is exceedingly clear and it is easy to understand his work upon first reading. This is a philosophy he has deliberately adopted with the influence of other West Coast poets, such as Bill Gainer, Will Staple, Julie Valin, Matt Amott and Annie Menebroker in the After-Hours Poetry movement which began as early as 2003 with the publication of the book ROXY (R.L. Crow Publications).
Cirillo continues this legacy. He says selflessly of his own commitment to bringing art to the masses:
“The philosophy remains, if the poet has to explain their poem to the audience then the poet has failed. This is poetry for truck-stops, bowling alleys and barrooms. We became known for not only the accessibility of our poetry but the shows we put on, which were rowdy and unpredictable (in the best way) and the support this group of poets have for one another. We also share a deep love for drinking, late-nights, craziness, barrooms, jukeboxes and Tom Waits.”
Cirillo says that the title poem “Burning the Evidence” was the last poem to be slotted into the collection and it is far more serious, and in some ways, more complex and powerful than the feel-good poems which crowd it. A couple of days ago, Cirillo explained the political context in which the poem was conceived:
“The poem was written in mid-October and I suppose the U.S. election was in my psyche in as much as I had a gross and twisted thought Trump would win. Maybe the underlying thought is, the rich stay rich, the poor stay poor and those with power like to hold onto that power at all costs. The last line really reflects that feeling; this election especially was a “filthy set up” but then again most of this life is as well; the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor. People vote or act against their own interests for the sake of feeling right or powerful, politicians do not give a shit about main street, especially today. Politicians have zero integrity and even if individuals attempt to live with integrity and get away with even that little bit, some sonofabitch will slap us down in one form or another. When I wrote the poem, I felt we (this nation) was on the verge of a national disgrace and now I believe Trump validates that almost daily. It’s disgusting.”
It’s difficult to disagree with Cirillo no matter your political leanings. The poem “Burning the Evidence” is about 100 lines in length and is easily the longest in the collection. It is a lament in which Cirillo voices his concern, that despite all our efforts in trying to beat the system- “feeling that we are winning/ one step ahead”- that the “odds are stacked against us” and “the world comes out on top” and “it will take away/ all we have/ and all we ever want.”
Cirillo’s solution is surprisingly anarchistic, perhaps a melancholic slip of the cog. He more or less says in a moment of desperation to fuck it all, to burn the “whole filthy/ set up” down:
Those moments
when it feels as though
the odds are stacked against us,
our motorcycle hits loose gravel,
and we hear the hounds closing in.
Perhaps, our only option
is throw gasoline all around us,
flick the Zippo
high into the air,
burning the evidence
of ourselves
to become stars.
Let the world
make its perfect getaway
leaving us
with only the ashes
of what we thought
was a clever
and brilliant scheme-
forever shining down
on the whole filthy
set up.
Yet Todd Cirillo makes it clear in the following interview with BM that his overall intent is not political but personal– that we need to return to establishing connections between people:
“I am not a poet who believes that a poem will/can change the world any longer, that time has passed for poetry. Poetry was once the top of the creative mountain but has been replaced with expediency and other art forms. My thought/feeling is that poetry has to return to the beauty and necessity of an interpersonal connection between two people, transmitting a feeling or emotion and allowing the other person to take it with them and hopefully, if the poet is good, that individual did not begin as a poetry fan but they are now.”
In Cirillo's insightful podcast with Marcia Epstein “Talk With Me” (December 2016), he compacts further this salient idea which is at the core of his poetics, “I’m not big on political poetry. There is enough war and tragedy in the world, but as a poet, it has always been important for me to write from the heart- be it laughter or something sensual. You have to laugh to fall in love.”
Burning the Evidence is a highly accessible and enjoyable collection to read. You can read it countless times and continue to get more out of it and to change your list of favourite poems. Yet lurking at the back of our minds is Cirillo’s impulsive, crazy idea, as represented in the title poem, that life’s fucked, and perhaps in moments of existential crisis, there is always the temptation to flick the Zippo.
Biography: Todd Cirillo loves good times and shiny moments. He lives in New Orleans so there are plenty of those to be found. His latest book is Burning the Evidence (Epic Rites Press). He can be found at afterhourspoetry.com
Buy the book here: https://www.amazon.com/Burning-Evidence-Todd-Cirillo/dp/1926860586%3FSubscriptionId%3DAKIAIS3LK4ULG464ALIA%26tag%3Dleebrii-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3D1926860586
