A poet at his best when he’s at his least A Contrary review by Shaindel Beers  C. E. Chaffin is a poet to be respected, a poet with range, as proven by his 138-page volume of Selected Works and Love Poems 1998-2008, published by Diminuendo Press this year. In Chaffin’s selected works, there are poems ranging from what can best be described as light verse to poems exploring Chaffin’s bipolar disorder to poems Chaffin wrote in memory of his daughter Rachel, who passed away in 2007. My issue, as a reader, is not with Chaffin’s poetry, but with the organization of his compendium. The most enjoyable section of the book is entitled “Love Poems,” and begins on page 111. There are certainly strong poems in the book before this point, but this is where the collection starts to feel like a collection, complete with unifying theme. I’ve never been able to pin down this quote, but according to poet-lore, Robert Frost once said that in a book of twenty-four poems, the twenty-fifth poem is the book. There are many successful poems in Unexpected Light, but I didn’t feel that the book was successful until I’d read that last, unifying section. One of its jewels is the poem “Easier,” which ends with the stanza: Easier to focus on your green eyes lightly puffed by grief, your lashes dark as night’s vegetation because love never dies, like the devotion of this spaniel, and this man, and this impossible art. The “Love Poems” section may also be strongest because here Chaffin is least self-conscious. He is a poet who doesn’t care we are watching, or who is so absorbed in the beloved that he has forgotten. The first poem, “Aleph,” begins: I want to tell the truth, I want to tell it straight; I want to peel your skull off and put in a glass plate. Even though the first poem of the book begins with a repetitive first-person speaker, the speaker is not Chaffin; it is Chaffin as disembodied bard, spokesman for Everyman. The third stanza complicates the seemingly simple beginning: as the Decalogue burns deeper than God burned stone inside the pale organ helmeted in bone. Thus, Chaffin opens his book with a poem that echoes Emily Dickinson’s “The brain is wider than the sky.” As readers, we know that we are going to be challenged, that there is a complicated poet-philosopher at work here—and there is—at times. Unfortunately, at other times, Chaffin is too self-conscious, and some of his poems suffer for it. A contrast of two companion poems early in the collection will show what I mean. “At the Carnival” begins: We ride the Swinger, hang by chains high above the asphalt and circle an electric maypole. I close my eyes, lean back, go limp and let my long frame hang like spaghetti beneath the pirate moon. The air is cool, I am a fat bird in a chair. I open my eyes, flap wings, stick out my dodo legs and yell, “I’m Jesus!” And pigs shall fly! The poem ends: We come to a stop pendulum-fashion; the carnie steadies our decline by hand as Hendrix sings, “Are you experienced? Have you ever been experienced?” I sing, “Well, I ha-ave.” The carnie smiles. In this poem Chaffin is performing not just for the carnie (and the crowd below) but for us. “At the Carnival II” is a much deeper poem, simply because the focus is not on Chaffin. The third stanza reads: Without my youngest daughter the Tilt-A-Whirl doesn’t tilt, the Scissors are for my beard, the Ferris Wheel an excuse for melancholy at changing altitudes. The poem ends: Why bother with thrill machines beneath the manic lights without my Sarah at my side?
This is no country for old men We lose our children to the future. Chaffin is at his best when he is a spokesman for all of us, not relying on charm or clever tricks of language. I look forward to Chaffin’s next book, and I do recommend Unexpected Light. I just think readers should be warned that sometimes it is hard to see the poems for the poet. Shaindel Beers is Contrary’s poetry editor. C.E. Chaffin’s poem “Tithonus” appeared in the Summer 2007 issue of Contrary. Index of Reviews...>http://www.contrarymagazine.com/Contrary/Tithonus.htmlReviews.htmlshapeimage_1_link_0shapeimage_1_link_1

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Unexpected Light

C.E. Chaffin

2009, Diminuendo

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SUMMER 2009 COVER YELLOW FINCHES JIM KROSSCHELL THE FACTORY: AN ELEGY IN 6 PARTS REBECCA LEHMANN CROW YEAR PAUL SILVERMAN DAY OF THE DEAD ARLENE ANG THE MYTH OF SISYPHUS EDWARD MC WHINNEY BABY IN A JAR TANIA HERSHMAN REVIEWS JOHN PIPKIN J. ROBERT LENNON MARY STRACHAN STEPHEN HAVEN C.E. CHAFFIN PAULA MEEHAN DAG SOLSTAD D.A. POWELL Summer-2009.htmlFinches.htmlFinches.htmlFactory.htmlFactory.htmlCrow_Year.htmlCrow_Year.htmlDead.htmlDead.htmlSisyphus.htmlSisyphus.htmlBaby.htmlBaby.htmlReviews.htmlPipkin.htmlCastle.htmlStrachan.htmlHaven.htmlMeehan.htmlSolstad.htmlPowell.htmlshapeimage_5_link_0shapeimage_5_link_1shapeimage_5_link_2shapeimage_5_link_3shapeimage_5_link_4shapeimage_5_link_5shapeimage_5_link_6shapeimage_5_link_7shapeimage_5_link_8shapeimage_5_link_9shapeimage_5_link_10shapeimage_5_link_11shapeimage_5_link_12shapeimage_5_link_13shapeimage_5_link_14shapeimage_5_link_15shapeimage_5_link_16shapeimage_5_link_17shapeimage_5_link_18shapeimage_5_link_19shapeimage_5_link_20shapeimage_5_link_21