Flash Review of Richard Siken’s Crush by Julie Patzlaff

‘Crush’ is a 2004 poetry collection published by Richard Siken, and it’s my favorite piece of art I’ve ever internalized. I struggle to describe accurately or precisely how much I adore this collection because it speaks to me and, evidently, many others in its 20 years of circulation in local libraries and Barnes & Noble’s. As someone who would call herself a fan of reading and writing poetry, I find that often in my own works and those of others it is difficult to convey and evoke feelings and intent on the page. Siken accomplishes this cohesion of ‘straight-talk’ and image evocation by conversationally laying bare the intimate moments and insecurities of a young queer man following what felt right. The opening and closing lines of “Scheherazade” set the tone for the remainder of the collection: “Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again… Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”  Siken’s lines aren’t afraid of all the small grotesque corners, moments, and feelings of life. He’s not afraid to be grotesque or murky when talking about love and desire. He refused to shy away from the messy ongoings of life, of chance encounters with strangers that leave you worse than before or dealing with a lover where their ‘sorrys’ won't make mistakes go away and leave you simmering in the awkwardness of the moment. Siken explores the dreamy fantastical side of life and memory later in the work, by expressing daydreams, hypotheticals, and fairytales starring faceless unnamed people who Siken held closer than anything, who are now gone forever from his life. What sticks with me most from Siken’s work is how unabashedly he writes about how disorienting  it is to be a young queer person in America; always struggling to find a place, sometimes desperately looking for validation in unsavory circumstances, and making just as many mistakes as steps taken along the way. Siken writes in a way where you feel like his peer, his confidant to whom he divulges both his daily commute and deepest secrets. In a world of ever-impending dread and looming death, Siken makes you feel alive.