At face value, the poem "About My Mother" By Adam Zagajewski appealed to me;I like the idea of the rushing stream of words, breathless and minimally punctuated in their rush to the the last crystallizing image; when it's done well, when the subject catches a little considered incident of experience and riffs on it briskly, quickly, ending, finally, on a surprising note in the run, that nuance you didn't know existed between the words you'd use to objectively outline your emotion, the effect is exhilarating.
When it works , that is.The secret , I think, is creating the feeling that you, the writer, was just as surprised by the ending as you hope the reader will be. When it doesn't work, the effect is a desperate assembling of random clauses, unconsidered, a piling on of things that happen to be in the room of memory one is rummaging through for something to write about. "About My Mother" reads as just that sort of poem, something composed in order to have written something, a short form limning of a problematic relationship with one's mother. The narrator recalls things said, meals made, silent gestures in response to his presence in the same room , presented in a tone that does not quite mute an otherwise undercurrent of anger and regret; you know where this is going, you know the destination this poem has in mind for you--
compared herself to Beethoven going deaf,
and I said, cruelly, but you know he
had talent, and how she forgave everything
and how I remember that, and how I flew from Houston
to her funeral and couldn't say anything
and still can't.