Review: Can’t Forget the Motor City… by Joseph Nicks

The tradition of travel writing in America is a long and proud one, but travel poetry doesn’t have the same mainstream following. However, in Can’t Forget the Motor City…, a new collection of poems from Joseph Nicks, the genre gains a strong voice that anyone who has longed for the open road will appreciate.

These poems span four decades of a life spent wandering and wondering, always looking for something new and invigorating. From musings on repetitive youth in the Great Lakes to the sluggish, sunny pace of California, these poems exude a hunger for elsewhere, with the poet never seeming quite satisfied, but also undaunted by the urge to make another change.

As an autobiographical collection, it paints a thorough picture of the author’s personality, his sense of humor, and his philosophy on life. It is difficult to share such intimate truths without exposition and prose, yet Nicks manages to make his presence known in these poems. And while these poems are pulled from the poet’s own experiences, many of them have the universal or seminal feel of American life; many readers will have seen those forgotten diners and lost eyes, mourned the loss of love from someone who had to leave, or perhaps dealt with the lonely space when man and nature cross paths in isolation.

This is an intrinsically American collection, with cultural touch points in almost every piece that ground the reader on US soil. Just as the poet journeyed across the west, and eventually out into the desert, so too are we pulled along on that trip, welcomed into beachside towns and dingy factories that are brought to life so uniquely within his poetry. A deep appreciation for nature is also undeniable in the collection, and offers an ideal juxtaposition to the more existential pieces.

Some of the poems are tangible and decidedly realistic, without much abstraction or poetic license, whereas others delve into the philosophical realm, less concerned with detailing a scene, but rather the feeling. In “Six Feet,” the poet casually compares the permanence of death with the stagnation of youth left unfulfilled, but does so with a tongue-in-cheek grace that is both relatable and deeply personal. “Some Assumptions” is one of the longer poems in the collection, and also one of the strongest, relating the poet’s thoughts on time and the value of life, as well as the willful ignorance we humans erect in the face of imminent death. “November No More” is a reminder that this poet can look outward as well as in, and has an enlightened way of seeing the world, even in its less lovely seasons.

The primary, and perhaps only, critique of these poems is the curation and order. They poems don’t always seem to move chronologically, based on certain desert poems near the beginning, and other Midwest-inspired poems near the end. For a collection based on journeying and moving forward, the flow of the pieces should be seamless, and there were a number of odd juxtapositions in terms of tone, timing and mood.

Aside from that small formatting stumble, the poems in Can’t Forget the Motor City… are tightly worked and clearly polished, with few wasted words, for an eloquent meditation on being both lost and found.