Russian Novels

Bloomfield's debut collection contains is a world where Polaroids of ice cream cones are photocopied and countries can be passive-aggressive lovers. The poems move as though responding to a child's impetuous questioning: "Beyond the fountain there was music. Beyond the music there was a buzzing sound. Beyond the buzzing sound there was my dream." Bloomfield's charming combination of a deadpan Grimm's fairy tale with the fantastical contemporary styles of Etgar Keret or James Tate takes the reader down winding, unexpected tangents. A conversation between lovers ends: "If I lost my legs in a plane crash// and got metal legs/ I could wear shorts in the winter// and not feel cold./ You whisper, you would be dead in a plane crash." Primarily composed of prose poems, the collection's ecstatic wordplay often decides the poetic movement. Moreover, whether he's switching the moon with ham or exploring a love for noodles, Bloomfield's poems retain a bizarre tenderness that tap at the mystery of existence without being too pushy about it: "so when it was over and we had all clinked our cups/ many times at sunrise, it was with an enormous bee/ in each of our hearts and one tiny shared heart for all the/ bees." (Apr.)