Year of Valentines - Tapa blanda

Sinopsis

In Year of Valentines, John Reed writes 80+ valentines to “you” (the loved one, the missed one, the lost one), and to New York City itself. Passionate and cool tempered, Reed’s second collection of sonnets sees creative origins in the No Wave movement—the set of his childhood—with its splendor of dissipation, and merciless affections.

The poems in John Reed’s Year of Valentines are intense, vivacious, and addictive. Reed’s lines and phrases captivate with their wholly original blend of urbanity and rawness, precision and surprise. —Peter Campion

Readers of contemporary poetry have marveled at what Diane Seuss and Terrance Hayes have accomplished with the serial form. To illuminate another brilliant practitioner, I give you John Reed. … These sonnets follow the misadventures of lovers who slip in and out of identities, variously becoming puppets, magicians, gamblers, witches, skeletons. It’s the speaker in these sonnets who anchors the project. Part id and part lovelorn ghost, we follow a voice into Luna Park and keep going, back into the very real experience of wanting what we want. —Laura Cronk

As John Reed's valentines move ever more deeply into their music, memory becomes prophetic and commemoration a guarantor of further love. Not since the sonic valentines of Zukofsky's shaping has this gentle form accomplished so fine a purpose. —Donald Revell

The cauldron of the heart is fired by the energy of love in all its manifestations. Through the mystery and transformation in the blood, along with reading John Reed’s Year of Valentines, we may become puppets of love or puppets out of love. One day, maybe, our souls will exit from the wooden flesh of our bodies into greater longevity. Who knows? In startlingly original imagery, Reed pumps the readers’ arteries and veins with the sassy brew from his poetic cauldron.
—Richard Martin

Reed is a real New York City character—mysterious yet completely accessible, old-school but cutting-edge. A few years ago, he started sharing some newly written sonnets ... Although they were largely about love, or desire, they weren’t really fit for readers looking for happy-ever-after scenarios. Many ended with a narrator seemingly suspended above a great metaphorical chasm, either about to descend into oblivion or ascend to something sublime. —Gee Henry

Reed is a heartthrob of a writer. —Molly Peacock

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