Plebpoet is the alter ego of Jana Kelsay who has become a poet through a more unconventional means-- through the ranks of a crypto-powered news network called https://stacker.news/

Plebeian is a Roman term that refers to the common people, which is what cryptocurrencies are, ideally, supposed to be serving as the "banking elite" have things the way they want them in the normal world of paper currency. These crypto solutions can also offer independent artists like Plebpoet a chance for expression and eventual publication, which is what Plebpoet has accomplished.

The body of poetry that Plebpoet has as an initial offering starts the reader off with the author observing that she is nothing special and has nothing to offer, though at one point she thought she did. Her poetry is aimed instead at those who are reading the work who are, instead, the extraordinary ones. The equation of what is or is not extraordinary is the ability to turn one's gifts into currency, which one supposes Plebpoet has not done, and so is therefore not recognized as extraordinary--though poetry and financial success have seldom courted one another through time.

This idea of destroy the self-specialness in favor of the reader is a clever way to introduce the idea of cryptocurrency and its themes, where Plebpoet actually has some existence such that she has a voice.

The forward to the work proves to be a kind of foreshadowing, perhaps.

The line brings to mind the Garden of Eden and eating the forbidden fruit, only this time, the poet is attempting to eat or digest the world. The factor that causes the inability to do this is one's attention in the verse. It could be, though, that the world is made to be a distraction so that one craves a higher nutritional food. That theme is not explored here, but the insinuation is there in this opening salvo.

The work then breaks in with the classical approach of one making love with one's muses, which in this case is identifiable in theory with Sophia. As sex and knowledge have a long association with one another through many kinds of literature, the metaphor is not lost and does not imply a Sapphic desire in a carnal sense. The relationship bears no fruit, in the verse, because the page is left blank. When one eats the world, what fruit is there to give?

We move along to a more scientific sounding theme which has one eating the fruit of going to work via labor. Naturally, this is an unfulfilling prospect to a poet, and hearkens back to the 60's Beatniks who also took up the theme at length. (Bob Dylan has made a whole career nearly on that point alone)

Soon we are facing an existential crisis as the world is stripping away the idealism of youth. If one were to characterize Plebpoet's work as a whole, one could probably say it is filled to the brim with an existential angst and what remains when one is gone.

The interlude between poems has some good photography interspersed among different pieces rather like wasabi eating before various pieces of different sushi. It is better experienced than commented upon, and so nothing more on that point will be said here.

The yearning for an awakening becomes poignant and intense within the themes further metamorphosis, and instead of the world the author is desiring to bite into her own life and devour it for the rest of her life. The Ouroboros is left no meal but its own tail. It is not surprising then when death follows on the heels of that lyrical exploration and what becomes of poems or life when those who lived it are now gone?

A type of "steam" comes after the death, in the sense that the sensation of rising begins through the next passage, and my personal favorite of Plebpoet's work manifests:

What makes this specific poem compelling is how life and war are connected and considered in the same verse. The baby is fighting to breathe, and somewhere someone needs some tanks to feel like they can breathe in whatever effort it is that the tanks will be utilized concerning.

It makes the poet feel wretched since the tubes are a reminder of the struggle that is life, and this is reflected in the manner in which everyone slows down as the train slows down. For Plebpoet, she speculates that they might all be thinking about war and what it means or at least poses the thought. On the other hand, it could simply be that something about that moment in life is touching on something sacred and fragile all at once and the only answer is a kind of stillness.

There are still many themes left within the work for the reader to explore, but the analysis for the review ends here in that from this point forward, there are multiple paths forward and it is interesting, as an individual who has not read the full work, to consider what direction you might take from this juncture should this body of poems be yours up until now.

In a very bird's-eye view way, we are all busy dying, living, birthing, living, yearning and growing in every breath. Why do we identify with one of those states in a given breath when all of them are present? Extremes can generate them, yes, but then, a train passing on a track with tanks in tow is not inherently extreme. A birth perhaps, is. Tanks in a museum, for instance, are not on their own extreme, but they can be the tools of those who are. Are the historical? Evil? A force for good? Maniacal? It all depends on how you breathe.

For what seems to be a first published work, not many poets get the chance to touch the sky--even if briefly. Plebpoet gets there and knocks on the heavens for a second. How she is greeted describes her descent that follows from that lofty journey. Or does it? Again, it depends on how you breathe.

The full original review can be found over at the booklight!