The Poet

He strikes again, with book Numero Dos:



Apparently the price is $10, not the advertised $12, so be advised you can get it elsewhere cheaper. Or, you can buy it from Amazon via me and I'll make some dough!

I often take out his first (Diminutive Revolutions) and marvel at it. Fave poems include "August" (for selfish reasons), "A Pavement Ontology" (move from coffee stirrer to coffee cup to cafeteria to chips on a rack to some chick The Poet may or may not be seeing across the street--the entire landscape is internalized, or the internal landscape is externalized, and the imitation of the effects of consciousness is as marvelous as anything in Henry James, minus 97% of the verbiage. Does one pity The Poet in reading this poem? Should one? No, one practically inhabits The Poet in a kind of Schonpenhauer-y manner), "Wrackline"--there are many more. I look forward to the new volume! I'll have to send a congratulatory box of pirated CDs to the guy with the most insane work ethic ever. The last time we visited him in Boston his then-girlfriend/now-wife told me he was up at 5am every day working for a few hours before work. I know he also works at work, and by work I mean writerly work, not the bullshit I'm doing now (which is not-work and not-work either--it's neither). Indeed, when I stumbled fuzzily out of the guest room futon at 8am that cold port-addled morning, there he was, scribbling away in a densely cribbed notebook.

Rumor has it there's also a new issue of The Poker available.