—Nate Slawson, from Panic Attack, USA

Two books of poetry I always return to: Nate Slawson’s Panic Attack, USA and Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems. The copy of Lunch Poems is my personal copy, Panic Attack, USA is from the library, but I check it out and reread it at least once a year so I should really just buy a copy. Anyway, I was sitting outside alternating between reading these two books, and I got inspired to write a poem after Nate Slawson that also contains a nod to Frank O’Hara. (April 23, 2022)

I think I am going Catholic what with my sudden bouts of guilt & sadness I kneel before you I suspect pine needles I suspect gravel I feel I should say something you are very sexy you should know I will stare at you like a math equation meaning night is tender I call it factory because they is all the same alley night N Carolina night I am never lost in the vastness the moon the parking lots the holy land I suppose you breathe hot & I’ll show you my blues there’s time I’m in love with everyone & sleeping naked sleeping with you it’s the red underneath my skin that gets mosquito & why not why not yours too this is America after all we can breakdance if we want or shove our hearts through a giant stained glass window.

from Panic Attack, USA by Nate Slawson

Nate Slawson, "We are a Map of the Midwest"

Breathless as the owner of the car you’ve just stolen and unsettling as the first date who says I love you, Nate Slawson doesn’t push boundaries in Panic Attack, U.S.A., he warps them like a telekinetic Proteus.

In addition to dealing with nostalgia head-on, one of Panic Attack, U.S.A.’s strongest qualities is its appropriation of a seemingly immature teenage voice, and how it uses what could be a thin, reedy, irritating whine to gracefully address a number of “big” topics.

words to live by...maybe. maybe not. whatev.