A Sensual Death by a Thousand Cuts
DEAR TED by Kim Vodicka, published by Really Serious Literature.
A
t a time when pop culture has wrung the last sad drops of brine from the pores of evil bastards masquerading as human, Kim Vodicka’s latest poetry collection, Dear Ted, drives a pike through the cancerous flesh and psyche of Ted Bundy, and displays it for the viewing public as a way to deep-dive into what drives one’s self-destructive infatuation with monsters and the pain that comes with falling for horrible men.
The main attraction of Vodicka’s poetic autopsy is divided into three segments (bookended by two pieces that ask the question “How Do You Feel About Love?”): “Circle of Mania,” “Circle of Shit,” and “Circle of Blood. “ The first in this triage of trauma-exploration focuses more on how Bundy—and others of the same treacherous ilk—utilizes insecurities to lure women into a violent honeymoon phase that hides the rot of their true nature. It hooks the reader with a familiar villain while digging deeper into the gaping mental wounds these guys pry open.
“Circle of Shit” is where the collection ebbs away slightly from the Bundy metaphor to become more about abusive relationships where one gives up their identity to please the other for the smallest hit of affection. This is the roughest section of the book, but it’s also the one that makes this collection standout. So many artists claim to be edgy when really their rebellions are nothing more than Hot Topic t-shirt slogans. Comprised of three poems and two pieces of prose, the latter of which are titled “Baby’s First Toilet of You,” and “Baby’s Second Toilet of You,” Vodicka isn’t selling cheap shock, but immersing the reader in the shit house of doomed love.
The third section, “Circle of Blood,” gives off the vibe of an art house revenge film. One where a tormented protagonist searches for answers in the pain and ultimately eviscerates the never-ending stock of fearful man-babies too stunted to face their problems with anything but knives and lies. To put it bluntly, in the piece “Poetic Justice,” Vodicka writes, “All I ever wanted was love, and this is what I get! / A cemetery of men, too afraid of girls / not to kill them / It was only right and natural / for me to kill them / The men, that is.”
Vodicka doesn’t shy away from taboo subject matter. She revels in it. Although certain sections might be challenging for some – the first and second toilet pieces are definitely a test for those with weak stomachs–it’s this Grand-Guignol strip tease that elevates Dear Ted from kitschy serial killer novelty and makes you fully understand that Bundy is just window dressing, the donor body Vodicka is playing Operation with to make a bigger statement about the physical and emotional violence men wage on women.
Now, Vodicka could’ve kicked back with a drink once these poems were finished to watch the Molotov cocktail she’s just pitched into the face of society’s rampant acceptance of misogyny, but instead she took to the studio to record an EP available for those looking to preorder the book. Featuring three pieces (“TW/CW,” “Beautiful as the Chance Meeting,” and “Poetic Justice”), Vodicka lays down her vocal chops along with her bandmate, Ben Ricketts on guitar and synth, to create pop-infused disorienting noir soundscapes that have a rhythm all their own.
As a collection of poetry that pushes buttons and boundaries, blends kink with raw trauma you won’t find anything better. To reiterate, these aren’t piss-Christ pieces or adolescent diatribes scrawled in a notebook. Dear Ted is a beautiful and sensual death by a thousand cuts that empowers those that have been hurt and puts the mirror in front of every heartless man that preys on the vulnerable.
