Somebody Else Sold the World lyrically evocates how times change without changing. Adrian Matejka’s fifth poetry collection transmogrifies our now as the titular, Bowie-inspired poem, “Somebody Else Sold the World,” (cycled throughout the book) gets lifted by funnel cloud and transported to another phase—as was house transferring Dorothy from Kansas to Oz. Now, we’re off-kiltered, living in chaos—COVID, BLM, insurgency, transphobia/gender validation, voting, taxes, truth vs. the big lie. Now, we implore for some essence of semblance for then in this new place, as we did back there, in our old place.
Matejka red-flags now—unwraps how “We talked/about was & when.” How “Words lost their family recipes.” Or how “He was given all of it & stole the best/of the rest.” Additionally, revelation regenerates in “It’s all I Have/ Daydreaming.” Matejka oscillates our human duality, while in conversation with Emily Dickinson’s line, “It’s all I have to bring today,” and Radiohead’s song, “Daydreaming.” Matejka pinpoints—
All of us backstroking, so there’s
only sky to see clearly in the soak.
He reflects this “soak” and this search for beyond the deep of our collective distress, wholeheartedly.
Nonetheless, there’s longing, reaching, in lilt of lyrics and atmospheric-musicality wandering throughout the melody of Rhye’s “Count to Five.” Matejka examines the interconnectedness of Rhye’s rhythm, exacting a rhythm of poetics reached in his own “Count to Five” (a poem with the same title)—
Nobody panics
except me. Nobody feels
out of place except me.
The hangers-on hit
the mini-mart for menthols
& juice. Everybody
but me with someplace
to be & I’m not supposed
to be here, middle-aged
as medieval script
on a silk shirtsleeve.
Things have changed
since the last time I was
outside
He longs, reaches, for connection—for more. He’s the medium. Matejka’s intersectionality of race, class, and gender craves common ground, social footing—validation in an environment where “place” feels placeless.
The above, in bold, elucidates an internalized rebirth of vulnerability, where most feel the same internalization but never strive to collectively address such—faltering, again, to reach some universal healing. The author inspires, through influential artists, the music cues for hope-slices.
Matejka grasps transcendental, vexes between what we were and what we are vs. where we were and where we’re headed—realizing disappointment performs in the circularity of our existence. He exemplifies our providence in the first cycle poem for “Love Notes”—
Like one of those early recordings, you’ll
be scratchy & demystified. Untranscribably
confessional until the last quarter note
is a processional.
His ear’s attuned to play with enjambment and internal rhyme, enhanced by polysyllabic apertures for stronger, tonal, constructs.
There’s musical dexterity to Matejka’s lyricism, resembling a Blues’ melancholia, with a creativity grasping hope—a psychological divide fighting for collectiveness. Diverse music is symbiotic to aspirations for a mended, diverse, humanity. Matejka writes to uplift. Transparent of us vying to cope. Exposing how messy, this life.
