Walks in the world Book

60 poets, many of them well-published, familiar names, mixed with less well-known poets, contributed 115 poems to this anthology. The editor deliberately chose not to group the poems by specific city or region; the collection is arranged alphabetically by writer. Christopher used only work by American poets writing about or in American cities, and in his intro he discussed why he chose the year 1975.

In the interest of full disclosure, I enjoy themed anthologies. I almost always discover writers whose work I want to explore further, as well as enjoy the rhythm of familiar poets. This collection held far more hits than misses, although there were a few poems where I struggled to find anything specifically urban. There are poems I return to, lines that catch in my throat, take my breath, make me stop and close the book. It would be difficult to quote from or even list all of my favorites, and I feel a bit guilty mentioning just a few. Following is a sampling.

Many of the poems describe scenes found while walking through a city.
and there on the corner of Thirty-fourth and Fifth,
the man with the saxophone,
his fingerless gloves caked with grime,
his face also,
the layers of clothes welded to his skin.
(The Man with the Saxophone, Ai)

Then, on Broadway, red wings
in a storefront tableau, lustrous, the live macaws

preening, beaks opening and closing
like those animated knives that unfold all night
in jewelers’ windows.
(Broadway, Mark Doty)

Closest to the exit, rainbow trout examining the snow
That falls like bait, like a hundred vowels
In search of a language.
(The Consequences of Waking, by Vickie Karp)

There are poems that deal with crime.
The quarter-moon goes blank
Behind a cloud. He frames a picture
In his head, retraces his footsteps
To Shorty’s liquor store.
He will go in this time.
(The Cage Walker, Yusef Komunyakaa)

Carol Muske takes us on a kindergarten field trip.
Downtown, on the precinct wall,
hangs the map of Gang Territories,
blocks belonging to the red Bloods
or blue Crips.
(Field Trip, Carol Muske)

One of my absolute favorites:
The night we bailed out Jolene from Riker’s Island
tumbleweeds in such multitudes were blowing through the dark
it might almost have been Wyoming.

She’d turned larceny
against the bureaucracy into an art form.
When they raised the subway fare and simultaneously
cut back on Human Resources, Jolene
began jumping turnstiles as a matter of principle.
(Amaranth and Moly, Amy Clampett)

One of the most poignant poems in this collection is PBS, by Robert Mazzocco.
The ferries go out with the bodies from the morgue,
on a cool winter’s day, the ferries go out,
carrying off the bodies of strangers, who have been found,
desolate and alone, lost in the heart of the city.

Mazzocco goes on to describe Rikers Island inmates digging graves for burial in Potters Field.

Walk on the Wild Side is a wonderful collection of poetry that pulses with heartbeat of America’s cities.