Vanity
poems by
J.R. Solonche
ISBN: 978-1-964277-72-1, 108 pages, $17 (+ shipping)
Release Date: January 28, 2026
The Advance Sale Discount on this title has expired. For those who prefer to pay by check, the price is $21/book (which includes shipping & sales tax) and should be sent to: Main Street Rag, 12180 Skyview Drive, Edinboro, PA 16412.
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Nominated for the National Book Award, the Eric Hoffer Book Award, and nominated three times for the Pulitzer Prize, J.R. Solonche is the author of more than 40 books of poetry and coauthor of another. He lives in the Hudson Valley.
In Vanity, J.R. Solonche offers us iron and bone, fox pelts and crocuses. From a trove of resonant facts (“Around 1,000 BCE emerged the Lur, which was a bronze horn”) he wrests his imagery. With casual profundity, the capacity for minute observation worthy of a Chinese poet-sage, Solonche shapes fresh visions of our off-kilter world, his marvelous gifts a wry wit and a unique voice that simultaneously laments and exults over human limitations and possibilities. ~Carol Alexander, Blue Vivarium
Glancing at the title of J.R. Solonche’s newest book, Vanity, one might expect to encounter images such as skulls, hourglasses and candles that have just been blown out. Instead, he offers the likes of crocuses that miraculously return each spring, the bird-like song of two branches rubbing together and, in its entirety, the vanity of this mystery: “I do not wear / my glasses // when I sleep, / yet I see perfectly // without them / in my dreams.” ~Stephen Cramer
VANITY
I’ve been walking around
mumbling the word vanity.
I can’t get it out of my head
or off my lips. “Vanity,” I say,
shaking my head, when I see
the cardiologist drive off in his
new Mercedes. “Vanity,” I say,
shaking my head, when I watch
the woman in the supermarket
ostentatiously display her Gucci
bag. “Vanity,” I say, shaking my
head when the teenage lovers
walk down the street wearing
matching Jordans and aviators.
“Vanity,” I say to my reflection
as I pass in front of the book
store window. “All is vanity,”
I say, shaking my head.
BONE GHAZAL
The adult human body has 206 bones, but babies are born with about 300 bones.
The middle ear contains the smallest bones.
The hyoid bone is the only bone that’s not connected to another bone.
Every 7 years, you have a new skeleton due to the renewed collogen in bone.
The ulnar nerve inside your elbow is called “the funny bone.”
Discovered in Ethiopia, the oldest known human remains are the Omo I bones.
Alice Sebold’s best-selling book (2002) about the afterlife is The Lovely Bones.
A song on Dolly Parton’s album Halos & Horns (2002) is “These Old Bones.”
Red Foxx: “Beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone.”
A term used by builders for metal or concrete is “God bone.”
The Romans started the ritual for bringing luck by breaking a bird’s wish bone.
In the Middle Ages it was believed you could prevent injury using pig bones.
So, can you toss us just one more little bone?
Nope, I’ve already worked all my fingers to the bone.
NO MOON
It is the best one,
this new moon,
which is no moon,
this black-as-night moon,
invisible yet still there,
unseen yet still
going about its moon
business as normal
behind the scenes,
under the cover
of darkness, smiling
to no one but itself.
SONNET OF THE FIRST SENTENCES
OF THE NOVELS I NEVER WROTE
All of this happened, no more, no less.
One morning, a cockroach woke up to find it was changed into a salesman.
I am an all too visible man.
It was hate at first sight.
The morning was sunny and calm.
For a long time, I went to bed as late as I could.
There was every possibility of taking a walk that day.
What the hell do I know about families, happy or otherwise?
A whispering comes across the ocean.
I am a healthy man… I am an empathetic man.
No one I know died today.
This is the dumbest story I have ever heard.
I have never begun a novel with more optimism.
Call me tomorrow.
