Recalibrations
by Monty Mittleman
29 Poems ~ 32 pages
Price: $17.99
Release scheduled during week of August 7, 2026
Publisher: Finishing Line Press
ISBN #: To be supplied later
To Order: Finishing Line Press
Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
Monty Mittleman’s title stopped me cold. It carried me back to my days in the United States Navy during Vietnam. I had gotten involved with a foreign girl and betrayed my fiancé. I jeopardized not only my future but seriously compromised other people. I had arrived at a crossroads with what to do next. It was time to recalibrate. Monty Mittleman’s debut collection is aptly named. By means of three minimalist poetry forms: Cinquain, Haibun, and Nonet, Monty bids me to walk with him through the seasons of his life.
Definitions:
Cinquain is a five-line form that features syllabic values of: 2/4/6/8/2.
Haibun is a minimalist Japanese form which combines prose and haiku. This form allows the poet to be both expansive and concise within the creative process.
Nonet is a nine-line poem composed of descending syllable counts of nine through one.
I like all these forms because they force poets to be reductionist … making challenging decisions about lineage and, in the end, producing uniquely beautiful poetry. Recalibrations takes on traditional themes of love, suffering, grief, and loss in ways that are unique and provocative.
Using language drawn from mythology, “Fusion” depicts joy early in Monty’s marriage:
Fending off jackals and moving in the tall grass at midnight, two elysian stars, longed for a place among the constellations. We were Virgo and Pisces on the move. Rule by Neptune, Pisces had been reborn in the ferocious cold of the Bering Sea. Virgo wandered as Mercury, sending messages, but found little solace in return. Fallen, these two rare earth metals, magnetized. It was a Goldilocks moment on hypersonic fuel; I never did catch up to her shooting star. So, a good journey to us, my love. As we climb this blessed life, allow me to carry your water and you can tell us stories by firelight. Our stars, finally aligned and gathering mass. From this union: comets.
softening eyes
under September stars
Chinese lanterns
This opening pathos of love is supported by a series of cinquains:
“Nueces”
Spring smell
of blue bonnets
overhanging deep pools.
Around the bend? Armadillos,
Jackrabbits.
“Buffalo River”
Three days
Paddling cliffsides.
Handfasted by water.
Moonlights opal hue; our maiden
Chuppah.
“Our Time”
First light.
Red winged blackbirds,
blushed Golden Rod, trilling.
Soundlessly breaking the surface:
tail fins.
Tenderness, exquisitely captured, leads naturally into maturity in: “Green Fields”:
My soul, light are the lips I have kissed
and soft the skin I have lain on.
Your lucent light bringing hope,
a guide through thorn bushes.
I am a forest,
you my shepherd.
Hew a path
to green
fields
Unexpectedly, “Diagnosis” opens the door to life-defining and life-changing health concerns:
The warren smelled of dandelions and fresh cut grass. An American smell, in those sweet corn years before the leaves started dropping. How we hated windy days, when you couldn’t help notice the bare places. The air tastes husky and coyotes howl from the wind breaks.
fearless lad
sinks up to his neck
in the Passchendaele mud
Editor’s note: Passchendaele refers to a village in Belgium and the site of the Third Battle of Ypres during World War I, symbolizing the extreme suffering and futility of the conflict.
“Chemotherapy” adds texture to his wife’s illness as well as Monty’s profound commitment to caregiving:
Weakened, we laid your crescent-moon crown aside. Rabbits gathered, frogs held their song, Samara seeds paused mid-flight. When you have rested, my Artemis, unfurl from beneath your cloak: the Red Amaranth will light the way. A hunter never looks back at yesterday’s shadows, so I’ll wipe the blood from your lip and take up your bow and quiver.
carry your burden
over the crest of the mountain
slipping in the scree
Illness or not, “Honey Do” reminded me that life’s ordinary tasks cry out for attention:
Porch light
is out, she says.
Flashlight, stool, steady now.
From the safety of the foyer,
“don’t fall”.
With titles like “Coma,” “Hospital Room,” and “She sleeps,” Monty guided me down a path I had traveled before within my own family. Recalibrations proves once again that poetry contains the breath of life. I felt spiritually renewed as Monty’s sensitive pen revealed an equally tender heart. I mentioned at the beginning that Monty invited me [and you] to walk with him. These poems will change your life. We have come full circle:
Let’s take a walk
I’ll bring: spring rain
You bring: you
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