DEAD LETTER OFFICE

Collected poems with an iconoclastic edge address a world corrupted by nationalism and other ideologies.

These poems, many of them originally published in literary journals and previous collections, are skillfully translated from the Croatian by Jurjević. Her lucid introduction (as well as a preface by poet Barbara Goldberg) gives the context of Pogačar’s background, influences, and style, noting such techniques as his use of internal rhyme, sometimes reflected in the translations: “Don’t be thick and acrid. every so often I lick / you.” Coming of age as Yugoslavia was being violently torn apart, Pogačar often takes a derisive, satiric view of institutions like the church, police, and bureaucracy. Revolutionary fervor is no more authentic, as in the savagely brilliant “What a Lighter Said.” A personified cigarette lighter considers itself akin to the anarchist hero Buenaventura Durruti. But rather than attacking a symbol of authority like the church, the lighter sets fire to a working-class neighborhood’s preschool: “I decided to melt children’s fillings.” Several poems concern the boundaries of language, both through means like punctuation and by twisting the truth. “An Orange Apologizes to the Tower of Babel,” for example, declares that “to speak is to sin: speech is nothing but an archive of errors.” While all the poems are strong, complex, and memorable, those in Section II, “The Lake,” are particularly so. Its 15 linked poems interrogate the contradictions and mysteries of the subject, an irreducible yet ramifying image: “No other / lake is the lake.” Dark ironies inhabit many poems yet Pogačar refuses to despair. In the final piece, “Waiting for the Song,” the poet acknowledges the barriers between self and world. Though “nothing / can land on you. still you lie and wait for the song. / you wait for it.”

A fine collection of poetry with a distinctively ironic and sinewy voice.