Please take a moment to consider and appreciate how the Department of Motor Vehicles has influenced contemporary poetry.

Carlos couldn’t stop sobbing that night because the ringing in his ear was loud. You shared a bedroom with him, and you told him to be quiet but he bawled anyway, his mouth open and really gummy. His breath smelled of milk and garlic. “It’s in my ear, Lila. You want to listen?” You put your ear close to your brother’s and, of course, you heard nothing. You carried him over and let him sleep next to you even though it was a warm night.

In the quieting room, the machine hum
settles into the periphery.

You don’t read Ben Lerner’s writing. You read Ben Lerner’s mind. His immense, contorted, self-effacing, hilarious intellect propels his narratives. Sure, his novels have characters, plots, themes.

As I watched small flitting creatures 
appear again and again in the poems,
I was struck with a sudden desire to witness
some such small creatures in person.

When he was small, a Huey strafed
the walls of his house. Abuela’s options 
were either pray God would skew the hail