I Will Destroy You by Nick Flynn

Nick Flynn is a master at writing in a deeply human way that connects with his reader. He’s not perfect, but his some of his poems might be. His latest book, I Will Destroy You, is filled with poignant poems about family, the past, relationships—all the emotional slop—but presented in a way to call to your own, perhaps substantially different past and present. That’s top-notch poeting! Buy here.

“The Child”

The month my father is dying // I buy clothes too small for me // small pants, small t-shirt, small coat // & never bother to return them.

From “God’s Will”

Isn’t there a bird (what’s its name?) / that collects blue // things—bottle cap, rubber band, / bits of a broken // cup—to make en elaborate, sparkling / blue nest on the ground. At // a meeting, a woman spoke of / her brother, who’d just // OD’d—teary, // she said she knew it was god’s / will. We all want to be held // a little higher . . .

From “On the Anniversary of My Mother’s Suicide My Daughter & I Take the C Train to the Museum of Natural History”

. . . In the Hall of Reptiles, we play the Blind Game. She has me close my eyes, then leads me by the hand to the display case—crocodile or python, whatever might make me scream. Now open your eyes, she says. this time—no shit—a giant frog, with babies, lots of them, emerging weirdly from holes in her back . . .