The Moon’s Jaw
The Moon’s Jaw by Rauan Klassnik, published by Black Ocean in 2012, is a poetry collection that spans 66 pages. This edition presents a vivid exploration of themes such as death, grief, and loss, encapsulating a portrait of rotting decadence. The poems delve into the complexities of body and soul, intertwining elements of cruelty and a dark, perverse sexuality, all while employing a language and rhythm that seem to revel in their own intensity.
Readers will encounter a spectrum of imagery that ranges from a twisted Eden to narratives steeped in obsession and striving. The collection reflects on blurred gender identities and the weight of godlessness, creating a landscape that is both haunting and thought-provoking. Klassnik’s work invites contemplation on the intersections of death, gender, and corruption, presenting a unique perspective on the human experience amid a backdrop of decay and despair.
Official synopsis Publisher
Poetry. The poems of THE MOON’S JAW are a portrait of rotting decadence: wastelands of body and soul radioactive with death, cruelty, and a dark gleaming perverse sexuality. The language, flow, and rhythms of Rauan Klassnik’s second collection seem to revel in themselves, stagnate, bog down, wallow. As Klassnik writes, “There’s no way out but we don’t stop trying” and here, we find a wasteland spectrum, from a playground, a twisted eden that lurches forward–despite a swollen turgid gravity of blurred gender and godlessness and wheel-spinning ruts–to an obsessive and persistently striving narrative of death, gender, corruption, and (anti)religion.
“In the wound of a stabbed cosmos, Rauan Klassnik’s moon, kin to Plath’s moon bald and wild, bucks against despair. Anytime we devour the queen, we will be forced to vomit her back up, a clean saint out of our foaming mouths. A pretty swell in the music. We’re not afraid of the cinema, even though it houses all our nightmares. We’re not afraid to die. Marble, Tequila, Rotted, Flapping. The myth of biological sex, the myth of biological stability [l]ike cathedral meat. Wrapped in a thin red towel.”–Danielle Pafunda
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