(Eyewear Publishing, 2018)

REVIEW BY GABINO IGLESIAS

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Greg Santos’ Blackbirds is one of those rare poetry collections that seems to hit the right length: long enough to be a book that leaves its mark and short enough to be read twice in a row and leave you wanting more. Also, it delves deep into the world of the poet, allowing not only the world around but also his family and the world inside him to share a space on the page.

Santos is hyperaware of his surroundings. He feels everything. The result of this is hyperaware poetry that bridges the gap between commonplace people and events and the kind of circumstance that earns a spot on our memory forever. The series of events and reflections shared here inhabit that strange interstitial space between the personal and the universal; holding your child, looking out a window, remembering a place, looking at a loved one. This personal/universal binomial starts early on with “I Have a Problem,” a poem that offers a condensed version of the type of thing Santos does time and again in the rest of the collection:

All I care about is everything.

I like to lie down and look up at the stars,

even when there are none.

I am almost nothing but thoughts and water.

I find mirrors unbearably off-putting.

My children find them droll.

Do you feel that too?

My left hand feels like a cataclysmic storm.

I will never tire of looking at my wife.

Her smile is like a constant sonar beep

in the depths of my chest.

I hear rain even when it’s sunny out.

Have you ever squinted at the ocean

so the sky and the water blend until

you don’t know where one ends and the other begins?

I’m doing that right now with you.

While navigating the inside/outside/interstitial space is enough to make this a recommended read, what truly makes this short collection shine is the way the poet deals with his unique and collective identity. Family, migration, discrimination, and hope are all present here, all dancing with each other in the present as they vocalize their ties to the past. For Santos, where you come from is as important as where you’re going because it defines who you are and informs what you do even when it’s not a clear element that can be easily explained or even remembered: “My family is from forgetfulness,/our geography forever shifting.”

Perhaps the best thing about the book is that offers a much-needed dose of hope despite carrying a good dose of doom. Every time Santos writes about love or his family or holding his daughter, he shows there is plenty left to life for, much left worth struggling for even when the darkness seems to cover everything. In fact, there is even a hint of humor when discussing the current sociopolitical state, which is very present in “MURICA”:

Rumor has it we are going to raise a barn.

Stay tuned. Have a beverage with me.

Pepsi says LIVE FOR NOW.

Living for corn syrup is vexing.

Our little American town is exhausted.

Please help.

Ultimately, Blackbirds is a short, beautiful collection that finds its roots in movement, love, change, and migration. Santos is a keen observer and a great chronicler of modern life who understands that looking at the mess outside his window is as important as feeling the warmth of his loved ones, and that makes his poetry as relatable as it makes it necessary.

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Gabino Iglesias is a writer, journalist and book reviewer living in Austin, Texas. He is the author of the novel “Zero Saints,” the book review editor for Pank Magazine, and a columnist at LitReactor. You can find him on Twitter at @Gabino_Iglesias.