Plasticville : Poems

Vivid and protean, David Trinidad's poems delve deep into the surfaces of things. At first, a reader might think this is a book about collecting dolls and rock song titles, with a sonnet completely composed of monster's names, capped by Greta Garbo arranging trolls under her couch. But it is a book about domestic life, a book about how to live, a book about a special kind of bliss, the bliss of invention, and collecting, and above all valuing the bits and pieces of popular detritus -- whether that be Nick at Night, songs from 60s girl groups, or Barbie's pocketbook -- that constitute our lives. Plasticville is about a special kind of solace: counting up what you have. Trinidad's pastiche of simple, declarative sentences masks a delicately calibrated formal poetic construct. His ultra subtle terza rima, his blended rhymes, and his surefooted diction guarantee that the poems never miss a beat. Trinidad's warm intelligence makes poetry that is deft but true, dazzling but vulnerable, and plastic but classic.