Four Reincarnations: Poems

The poems in Max Ritvo’s collection Four Reincarnations are filled with language that flickers brightly against what might otherwise be a dark subject—the cancer that ended up taking the poet. I was most entranced with Ritvo’s use of surprising similes, which had me in mind more than once of Larry Levis. In “The Senses,” “The sound of burning vegetables / is like a quiet, clean man folding sheets” and “my mind / like a black glove / you mistake for a man / in the middle of a blizzard.” And in “Dawn of Man,” Ritvo writes: “Wishes aren’t afraid / to take on their own color and life— // like a boy who takes a razor from a high cabinet, / puffs out his cheeks, and strips them bloody.” It makes sense, this reaching for a way to describe what is ultimately untranslatable (one’s experience of their own body) to an outsider. How else can we understand other than through indirect, imperfect comparison. There’s the ecstatic in Ritvo’s poems as well. In “For Crow,” “the you-around-you is the harbor” and the moment comes when “How I feel is then forgotten, / and instead I find myself / moving, joy, moving!” And there’s also peace, as in “Lyric Complicity for One”’s final lines: “For every thought, a new fish soars / right under the anchored boat— / a lullaby to quiet another lullaby.” I enjoyed this collection, and I wish there was more Max Ritvo work to come. Instead, I’ll just have to settle for returning to this book—an easy task.

This is a remarkable book of poetry that is difficult for me to categorize. For those unfamiliar, Max Ritvo was a young poet who passed away from cancer at the age of 25. He leaves behind a single complete book of poems, which came out shortly after his death from Milkweed editions. It's hard to separate the poems from the poet in any scenario, and particularly difficult when the poet's life story is so loaded, beautiful, and sad. But Max Ritvo defies sadness. In these poems he faces death head on, with a peculiar blend of both depth and humor that throw off any sense of pity. Max Ritvo can laugh in the face of pain, even though he still feels it. He can scoff at loves lost but knows that there is love to be lost. He is our guide to the bitter end, and I am thankful for these poems -- every one.If you're still not convinced, I recommend that you check out "Poet to my litter" published in the New Yorker.

We'd say Keats if only for the death by mid-twenties part, but we should say it because both were so fully mature as poets. These poems make me sad because they are finite, but happy because they were written despite all of the time the poet spent in treatment and in a battle that he both won and lost. These poems are the victory. They live like few ever will.

Please purchase this collection of Max Ritvo. His genius wordsmithing of life its experiences and the journey he traveled will move you. We feel his spirit in every word and the generosity he endeavored to share with us. He honors us with his gifted collection.

Max Ritvo is a master at language, poetry, and evoking emotion. The fact that he died before his work was published make his words even more heartbreaking. He embeds and plants his poetry inside of you, without you realizing at first; it’s always going to live inside you and never disentangle from your consciousness. Four Reincarnations is a beautiful collection that de-familiars you into the mind of Ritvo, a quirky, intelligent, alluring, darkly humorous, and gorgeous place to be. Ritvo will unyoke your mind, so it will let your body feel chills at every line. A line that encapsulates Ritvo’s effect on the reader is: “your brow is brutal, your teeth are for meat, your eyes are globes and hunched beneath them is my ghost who blinds them shut, who pulls out your tears, I’m finished.” His exceptional work will forever live on in this collection, it is haunting and will make people feel something.

Ritvo's poetry is tragic in light of his death before this book was widely released: his experience of the his bodily disintegration and his struggling with theodicy and philosophy render this book especially haunting. When he writes "When I was about to die / my body lit up / like when I leave my house / without my wallet" the pathos and humor intermix. Vulnerable, intimate, and powerful.

Ritvo's poetry stuck in my soul and twisted around, in there, for a while. I loved the experience and was deeply moved by his passion, quirkiness and unflinching presentation. Max was a poet of great artistic courage.

Breaks my heart that he is no longer with us. Very short life. But his poetry is amazing.

One of the best collections I've ever read (& I have read hundreds). It's become a firm favourite and it's so good, I had to write a review (usually I don't).The volume is about the poet's experiences of being terminally ill. Usually I am not a fan of confessional poetry, but this was written without a trace of sentimentality & contained such a fresh perspective on a subject many have written about.I cannot rate this highly enough. I've been recommending this to friends, who all agree.