And did I mention that some of this is heartbreaking and raw, but a lot if it is sweet and funny, and playful. Individual poems veer from the intensely political to intimate odes to current friends and to people who have passed through and sometimes out of Smith's life without ever seeming janky or as if they are trying to do too much in a small space. (Notably, there is a lot of verbification in this, which is something that generally bugs me, but Smith convinces me here that it has a purpose, and that verbification can be better than respecting the rules of grammar and usage.) The musicality and the word choice are consistently immaculate while framing the slang and profanity and truth. The structure of these poems is odd, subversive in both their untraditional beauty and their rejection of conventional form. Oddly because the word majestic implies a stiff formality and there is nothing stiff about this. Funny and sad and moving and oddly majestic.
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