A Review of Brian Rihlmann’s NIGHT AT MY THROAT by Heidi Blakeslee

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    I wanted to sit down and read a couple of poems from this collection to get a feel for what I was about to get into, but that was not meant to be.  One became ten, ten became twenty, and before long I had consumed the entire book like a tube of Pringles.  

I then realized that what I had before me was a looking glass into the soul of Bukowski’s son.  If Bukowski had a son who was hardworking, hard-drinking, and a lover of broads, then this is him.  

The poetry has central themes that are relatable: tenacity, inherited mental health problems, complexities of human interaction, wisdom, and broads. This writing drew me in first with a masterful use of atmospheric metaphor.  Rihlmann’s world is at turns bleak and lovely, and always true.

One of the reasons why Bukowski fans are as such is because of the humor interwoven between the pain and chaos of his lines.  “Night at my throat” delivers tough moments in such a way that makes me think that Rihlmann’s eyes are twinkling as he writes.  Of course, the other side of twinkling eyes is insanity.  Despite this, Rihlmann works the line well so that in the end we’re rooting for him.  Even if he is crazy.  Even if we all are.

“Night at my throat,” published by Pony One Dog Press, is a worthy traveling companion for anyone looking for some poetry that will make you think about life, death, and most importantly, the journey.

From “Hoarder”

I used to watch shows

about hoarders

and think my god....

how can you live

like that?

in houses filled

with rats or cats

in houses packed

with the accumulated junk

of a lifetime

in houses with plumbing

that doesn’t work anymore

so you shit in plastic bags

and throw them in the basement

I mean

what the fuck

is wrong

with you people?

but now

two plus years sober

as I daily navigate

the junkyard and sewer

of my own mind

scraping congealed puddles

of who knows what

off the floor 

under white hot spotlights

of teetotaler awareness…

I don’t wonder

about that anymore

Brian Rihlmann comes out of a tradition that seems to be fading in our country, that of the self-taught poet. His experiences in jobs as varied as car washes, horse stables, construction and warehousing to bartending, truck driving, working as a personal trainer and commercial photographer, just to name a few, have shaped his work and provided an inexhaustible source of material.

His broad work experiences and wide travels in the United States have made him an authentic observer of American values and life. He writes with conviction about racism, the glorification of money, the disrespect for the elderly and the poor, and about the American gun culture. He is currently sheltering in place near Reno, Nevada. He is the author of a previous collection of poems called Ordinary Trauma and is widely published online.