1 essay by Hans Kesling,
on the poems of Antonio Addessi

What is This Place?: Musings on the Poet/Reader Relationship, and the Poems, “River Otters are Monogamous,” “Into the Arms of Josephine,” and “Metalmouth”

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I have a hard time believing anyone is straight, even after I meet their straight spouses, get a good look at their straight relationships. Perhaps I am self-centered, projecting me onto the rest of the world, but I find myself assuming everyone is gay until proven otherwise. So, after reading “Metalmouth,” I have to ask my partner for confirmation, “This poem is actually gay, not just me reading gay into it, right?”

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The trouble and the wonder of writing, when compared to visual art, is that it’s confined to words, which means it’s confined to symbols, to association. If these poems were pictures, you’d get to see that the milk is in a pink plastic cup, child-sized, with a rim that is wider than the base, good for stacking. Well, I just made that up. I didn’t write this poem, so I don’t actually know what the cup looks or feels like, the sound it makes when it touches your teeth. The poet pictures the cup one way and I picture the cup my own way, both of us relying on our own associations with cups, milk, cups of milk, teeth sitting in cups, and teeth sitting in cups of milk. When compared to a painting of a cup, the word “cup” is just a symbol.

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The fact that “Metalmouth,” is a gay poem, or that I’m seeing gayness in the poem, does not mean that the poet is gay. Most fanfiction about gay men is written by women. Most lesbian porn is produced and directed by men. Most gay icons are fabulous straight women. So yeah, the poet might not be gay. But since I’ve been given this wonderful treasure of a gay poem, my little gay heart can’t help but hope and believe that the other poems are also gay. I mean, isn’t it so gay to love someone even after they’ve lost all their teeth? Isn’t it gay to want to be a river otter, floating lazily, eating clams, not working? Isn’t it gay to eat, off the floor, an open-mouthed coffee date (or, it’s possible the line could be referring to an open-mouthed loon or an open-mouthed star)?

If I’d never encountered a cup before in my life, I could google pictures of cups and I’d get a set of images that is probably curated based on my browsing history, shopping habits, and whatever new algorithm Google is using to limit the amount of low-quality AI-generated results. I might see a novelty coffee mug, a water glass, a bra cup, a cup for a jock strap, someone cupping their hands, etc. Anyway, so the poet hands you this image of teeth sitting in a cup of milk, and they trust you to fill in the details. In doing so, you, the reader, bring yourself into the poem. The poem, which was made by the poet, is also made by you.

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When you look at these poems, what do you see? “the sky opened up you / take me to see / we see stars as if they’re grounded— / splintered / what is this place?” What is this place, in your mind? I picture a valley on the way up Mt. Rainer. I went at night in a recommissioned yellow school bus that reeked of diesel with my youth group at age 14. We unloaded from the bus and hiked for a half hour in the dark. We saw stars brighter than I ever had at home, through the light pollution of even rural Washington. Saw the milky way truly milky, a streak of spilled milk across the sky. Saw stars on the horizon--stars that were practically grounded. What do you see? That, too, is gay.