This first book was selected for the National Poetry Series by D.A. Powell, but Powell's elliptical, calculated lines are absent, for Wicker writes a looser, more narrative poetry. That said, Powell's language play and meme mania are everywhere evident. For instance, Wicker's first section, "Maybe the Saddest Thing," is dominated by what appears to be an earnest enthusiasm for celebrity (e.g., Richard Pryor, Justin Timberlake), as in "Love Letter to Ru Paul": "I am a black man who has never worn pink—/not a polo to a country club. Not gators/ to a church. And still, that commercial/ ravished me." In the second section, "Beats, Breaks, & B-sides," the poems seem less ecstatic, more critical.
VERDICT When Wicker is trying to be funny, the poems fall flat ("Mature of the Beast"). The casual informality of these voices, however, allows Wicker to address social issues interestingly and without polemics, as in "To a White Friend Who Wonders Why I Don't Spend More Time Pontificating on the N Word." For those who read comprehensively.
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