score.

In the role of the poet, Kleinzahler is concerned about being honest in his observations, and he does not pull any punches. There is an urgency in his writing, a burning to be totally accurate. He is less concerned with academic boundaries and popularity and more concerned with precision and toughness of thought in his writing.

Kleinzahler loves details almost to a fault, and in this regard, the poet can be compared to Ezra Pound. This is evident in the title poem “Sleeping It Off in Rapid City.” It opens: “On a 700 foot thick shelf of Cretaceous pink sandstone/ Nel mezzo . . . / Sixth floor, turn right at the elevator/ “The hotel of the century”/ Elegant dining, dancing, solarium/ Around the block from the Black Hills School of Beauty.” There is a rich tapestry presented for the reader to examine, to decipher with great care. Although Kleinzahler has little respect for stuffy academia, he does not “write down” to an audience. He expects the reader to bring something to the experience, to relish what is presented. Over the years, the poet has held several positions in the academic world, including teaching creative writing at Brown University, at the University of California at Berkeley, and at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop at the University of Iowa. In addition, Kleinzahler has taught homeless veterans in San Francisco and has worked as a building manager, a taxi driver, and a locksmith. Each of these endeavors has served him well in his poetry.

Kleinzahler is best described as an amalgam of various influences, including jazz music, Imagism, and Abstract Expressionism. With his ear constantly pressed to the earth and to the wall and pointed toward everyone who passes within shouting distance, Kleinzahler has, with his endless curiosity, created a unique style of poetry. His poetic temperament has compelled him to travel off the beaten path, and in the poem “Traveler’s Tales: Chapter 13,” the reader discovers details about another place in time. There are “bicycle paths” that “are busy with peddlers, humorless and good,/ speeding down their privileged corridors,/ kinetic emblems of an enlightened state,/ efficient, compassionate and on the go.” “On the go” is an apt description of the poet, who finds that the world rarely stands still.

In “Poetics,” Kleinzahler finds inspiration in the air. He “loved the air outside Shop-Rite Liquor/ on summer evenings/ better than the Marin hills at dusk/ lavender and gold/ stretching miles to the sea.” The air at this location is “full of living dust:/ bus exhaust, airborne grains of pizza crust/ wounded crystals/ appearing, disappearing/ among streetlights and unsuccessful neon.” Although this atmosphere may not be healthful, it is a part of life and says something about the human condition.

Kleinzahler has stated that he hopes the reader “trusts” him that he would not intentionally lead the reader astray. If a poem at first glance seems difficult, it is not written that way to frustrate the reader but to ask the reader to take a poetic journey that will be enriching. For Kleinzahler, the writing process is invigorating; he has described the writing of a poem as being in a “trance,” simultaneously “thrilling” and “very exhausting.”

Kleinzahler has voiced strong opinions in his writing and in public forums, becoming “pugilistic” in poetic matters. On occasion, he has become involved in fights at poetry readings. This tough mentality is evident in his poetry. For several years, Kleinzahler has made the Haight-Ashbury section of San Francisco his home, and he has written about this area in such poems as “Sunset in Chinatown.” It opens with “The massive cable turns on its spool, pulling/ carloads of tourists to the city’s crest// as the sun sits low/ in the hills above Chinatown, exploding// suddenly in the window of Goey Loy Meats, high/ along the top of the glass,// showering light over barbecued ducks.”

Kleinzahler adds poignance to the strength of his poetry as he presents his perspective on the world. More than willing to defend his point of view, he considers himself an outsider in the world of poetry. There is little that is genteel about Kleinzahler, and for that reason he has been compared to the rambunctious Los Angeles poet Charles Bukowski. Kleinzahler is also a mischief maker who believes that he is worthy of attention. For some literary critics, Kleinzahler’s gritty urban portraits are more “ugly” than “poignant.” One of the poems noted for its revolting subject matter is “Meat,” in which the poet asks “How much meat moves/ Into the city each night/ The decks of its bridges tremble/ In the liquefaction of sodium light/ And the moon a chemical orange.” By the end of the poem, the reader is confronted with the horrors of the “meat” trade: “Hauling tons of dead lamb/ Bone and flesh and offal/ Miles to the ports and channels/ Of the city’s shimmering membrane/ A giant breathing cell/ Exhaling its waste/ From the stacks by the river/ And feeding through the night.” While Kleinzahler’s tendency to almost revel in the seedier aspects of modern society may not earn him many devoted readers, this multifaceted poet is capable of writing in several voices.

A poet of extremesone part braggart, one part technical expert, one part cultural provocateur, one part sensitive observerKleinzahler is revealed in all these aspects in Sleeping It Off in Rapid City. It should garner this underappreciated American poet just praise from a far wider audience.