88 of 95 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Watch out Emily Dickinson, Rummy's Coming After You, July 11, 2003
This review is from: Pieces of Intelligence: The Existential Poetry of Donald H. Rumsfeld (Hardcover)
Hilarious and startling. This book contains some real gems of what they call "found poetry," except it's all utterances from our Secretary of Defense. I admire Rumsfeld enormously, and his bizarre utterances have been turned into poetry through the inspiration of Hart Seely. It's just hard to believe these things were actually said. Gordon Lish must be green with envy. Take, for example, The Unknown:
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know we don't know.
Another favorite is The End of the World:
Puffs of dust
End up crawling
Up your leg
And hitting your knee
Because it's,
There might be
As much as an inch
Or two or three.
Come on, the reviewers who sniped at this collection reek of partisanship. I can't recall any politician talking extemporaneously like Rumsfeld. This is unwittingly brilliant, hilarious stuff. Whether you like the current administration or not, this book is worth owning for the sheer incredulity it inspires.
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86 of 94 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Unique New Voice in American Poetry, September 3, 2003
This review is from: Pieces of Intelligence: The Existential Poetry of Donald H. Rumsfeld (Hardcover)
The emergence of a unique poetic voice
"Pieces of Intelligence" is the landmark publication of verses written by the previously unpublished existentialist poet, D.H. Rumsfeld. While Rumsfeld is widely recognized and often quoted, his poetry has received surprisingly scant attention until now.
Rumsfeld first emerged on the scene during the turbulent Watergate years, however his poetry remained overshadowed by more flamboyant voices of the time such as those of J. Dean, G.G. Liddy, and D. Throat. Beginning in the late 70s, Rumsfeld entered the so called "wilderness phase" of his creative ruminations and was scarcely heard from. Turning up in a number of odd corporate and government locations, and once even in Baghdad as a guest of Saddam Hussein, much of Rumsfeld's poetry during this time remains classified.
Rumsfeld's period of artistic obscurity came to an abrupt end with the tragic events of September 11th, 2001. As a traumatized nation struggled to understand what had taken place, Rumsfeld addressed both its disorientation and its deep nostalgia for better times in his now landmark poem, "Glass Box" (December 6th, 2001).
You know, it's the old glass box at the-
At the gas station,
Where you're using those little things
Trying to pick up the prize,
And you can't find it.
It's-
And it's all these arms are going down in there,
And so you keep dropping it
And picking it up again and moving it,
But-
Some of you are probably too young to remember those-
Those glass boxes,
But-
But they used to have them
At all the gas stations
When I was a kid.
The beauty of this poem is that it remains both complex and accessible in a manner that appeals to practically every type of reader. The poem contains a clear sense of regression, with each stanza becoming progressively smaller until the final stanza "stabilizes" at the same number of lines as the preceding one. Similarly, while the first three stanzas end in incompletion with expressions such as "It's-", "But-", and "But-" the final one firmly anchors the poem with a nostalgic reference to childhood in a bygone era. At a time when the collective psyche of the nation's populace had become traumatized in an unprecedented fashion, "Glass Box" showed them that the answer to all of their problems lay in the past. The poet had found his voice.
While "Glass Box" may be Rumsfeld's signature poem, it is really his deconstruction of knowledge in the poem "Unknown" (February 12th, 2002) that demonstrates his skill and subtlety as an existential poet.
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.
Because the musicality of this poem tends to fool many readers, they often miss out on its uncompromising logic. One useful trick to avoid the dreamy cadence produced by the "oh" sound in all the "knowns" is to separate them from the rest of the poem an a substantive manner:
Know known knowns
know know
Know known unknowns
not know
Unknown unknowns
don't know don't know.
Even by extracting and parsing the most emblematic term of this verse, we must labor to keep up with poet's logic. The beauty of this poem, as with many of Rumsfeld's more subtle ones is that, indeed, by the time he is done we wonder what it is we actually know.
While I have quoted two of Rumsfeld's more academic poems in this review, readers will be pleased to learn that he is a poet of tremendous variety, which makes his work infinitely readable. Among other genres, "Pieces of Intelligence" also features Rumsfeld's haiku, hiphop and free verse.
Whether you're a sophisticated student of poetry or just a person who enjoys some really cool verse, I highly recommend purchasing the first publication of D. H. Rumsfeld's poetry. I hope that in future we see more of Rumsfeld's verse including his lost earlier poems from the 70s and 80s.
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24 of 25 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
This book is not political, March 25, 2004
This review is from: Pieces of Intelligence: The Existential Poetry of Donald H. Rumsfeld (Hardcover)
It's funny. Our Secretary of Defense has a unique speaking style, often asking a series of rhetorical questions to which he provides responses as though interviewing himself. When some of his more meandering pronouncements are broken into free verse, the effect is hilarious. I bought these as Christmas presents for friends and co-workers and got universally great reactions.
It's too bad people on the fringes can't laugh at others and at themselves. I believe that if you can't laugh at yourself, you don't get life's greatest joke. (Did I write that? Yes, I did. Do I believe it? Absolutely. Thanks, Rummy.)
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