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BROTHER NERVOSA by Ronald Palmer Kirkus Star

BROTHER NERVOSA

by Ronald Palmer

Pub Date: April 15th, 2024
ISBN: 9781962131025
Publisher: Barrow Street Press

Palmer’s poetry collection explores queer identity, Big Pharma, and Northern California.

Inverness, California, is an unincorporated community in Marin County, a perfect hiking spot that Palmer frequents to meditate on the themes in this collection. Palmer’s narrators feel similarly unincorporated; they tackle social and historical events in the Bay Area, such as technology, the AIDS crisis, and LGBTQ+ life from a bird’s-eye view. The opener, “Telekinesis,” outlines what’s to come in the collection, including a near-drowning (rendered as “two heads full of memories…careening the paranormal Pacific”), relationships, and a bad breakup. Palmer writes about his past in pharmaceutical sales in the poems “Necrotic,” “Outside the Psychiatrist’s Office,” “The Art of the Tantrum,” and “Make Me Go Viral,” which grapple with the ethics of commodifying life-saving medications, the cavalier approach to wellness, and the paranoia within the queer community that AIDS could return to pandemic levels. The body is a central image for his ideas, and it appears as both viral host and lover. A frenetic quality builds throughout the work as Palmer reiterates his themes and skewers California’s pharmaceutical industry: “Ambition and antibiotics construct a secret circus / for psychotics.” The word virus appears over two dozen times, and Palmer favors the term “manikin” to convey his perceived lack of agency. The poems generally do not rhyme, and the stanzas are often broken, with lines that flow across the page like cells in the bloodstream. Some entries convey the subjects’ bleakness in the form of unyielding blocks of text. But Palmer’s knack for inventive imagery makes even the most despondent poems feel alive as he blends the landscapes of Northern California, Snapchat, anthropomorphic “furries,” and the rapper Future. These are queasy, graphic poems full of lines like “a chameleon the length of an erection” and “gravity is porous / and thinks / like a virus.” As a whole, it’s a memorable, visceral collection.

A startling, affecting work about self-determination and close observation.