Tag Archives: poetry collections

Carousel

ABOUT THIS BOOK

While “Carousel,” contains new material, it is also the culmination of many years of work and publication.  I am grateful to my publisher, Lummox Press, and its editor, RD Armstrong,  for an opportunity to share this writing with an expanded audience.  For me, reading and writing are the two sides of world-exploration. Poems and stories, at their best, are at once personal and universal, and as necessary to a fully realized life as food and drink—and more, a human pleasure. My hope is that this book will bring some measure of that to readers.                    Judith R. Robinson

“Judith Robinson is a poet of image and motion. She composes poems like songs with clarity and vision, trimmed with memory. She’ll take you along on the road she’s traveling, and it’s the least dangerous place you’ll ever be—filled with flowers and colors—sometimes sadness—but even that will endear – as she holds her mirror up to the world.”

Grace Cavalieri
The Poet and the Poem from the Library of Congress”

Read some selections from Carousel.

CAROUSEL by Judith R. Robinson
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ISBN 9781929878550

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Scott Wannberg – The Lummox Years 1996 to 2006

A poem from the book as read by its author, Hank Beukema.

wannbergcover

Scott Wannberg was born in Santa Monica in February of 1953. A big man with an even bigger presence, he attended Venice High School and then went on to receive his master’s degree in creative writing from San Francisco State University. He was a poet’s poet and a human’s human who spent his life working as a sales clerk and book buyer for independent bookstores, most notably Dutton’s Books in Brentwood, where he held court and worked the stacks for almost 25 years. His book  Nomads of Oblivion (Lummox Press) made the Los Angeles Times‘ bestseller list in 2000, and in the late 90s,  Los Angeles Magazine named him one of the “Top 100 Coolest People” in L.A. In 2008, he relocated to Florence, Oregon, where he died too soon at the age of 58 in August of 2011.

Special thanks to S.A. Griffin for Scott’s bio (above) and other permissions and info.

This book concern’s itself with Scott’s involvement with an obscure outpost located in the far reaches of his sphere of influence…namely the Lummox Press. It chronicles Scott’s involvement with all things Lummox: the Lummox Journal, including his interview; the two Little Red Books of his poetry (Equal Opportunity Sledgehammer and Nomads of Oblivion), and his contributions to Eyes Like Mingus (Little Red Book #9), Last Call (Anthology of poets influenced by Bukowski), and The Colorado River Song sequence (about Scott’s mother’s passing). Scott was named “Lummox of the Year” in 1999 and a drawing was commissioned to artist and long-time Lummox friend Michael Paul. This same drawing appears on the cover of the book.  He was actively a part of Lummox for 10 years. Also included are remembrances by several of his friends…Doug Knott, Lynn Bronstein, Steve Goldman, Dona Mary Dirlam, Hank Beukema and Victor Infante. 

Scott was the kind of guy who made a good impression on those receptive to that sort of thing. He delighted in playing with language, linking metaphors together that quite often seemed unlikely and impossible but, in the end, worked out as if by magic!  For a sampling of Scott’s work, go here. Or listen to Scott read a poem here.

For info on the book launch in Feb. 2017 go here.
To see other Scott related Merchandise, go here.

WORDS OF PRAISE

Scott was someone I saw every weekend during my childhood when Dad would take me to look at books there [Dutton’s Books]. Upon getting older and realizing I was “different” I found  solace in Scott’s company, as I had learned to communicate better with people by the time I was that age. One day in particular during my high school years I remember talking to Scott about Mystery Science Theater and a strange dream involving “Sesame Street”s Bert and Ernie in a noir film on Turner Classic Movies. He combined these ideas (and then some) into a spontaneously written poem and I still have it in my room at my dad’s house.

Spencer Lane Griffin

We talk the old stuff: SA’s mac & cheese/ Dutton’s deceased bookstore, the endless forever Carma Bums,/ How Dustin Hoffman leaped up when he heard/ Scott was waiting for him with books! “What? Scott’s waiting for me?”/ Yes, Dustin jumped for Scott – and Mr. Dylan, Jackson Browne/ And all those movie people with the flagship names/ Always sought out Scott/ Because he was already an angel,/ and lifted them up/ despite their weight of fame/…

An excerpt from Doug Knott’s poem, Scott Wannberg in Florence, Oregon, July, 2010

Bill Craychee (reader) review:

I just finished reading your book about Scott Wannberg. I was around and not writing poetry during the years 96-06. Now I wish I was. Made me feel more a part of the poetry/art community I’m looking at through the corner of my eye… The book did a good job of introducing one to SW, making one curious enough to read some more, after a rest, of course, because SW was so relentless. “White noise Wannberg”. Nice book RD. Wonderful gift for a friend. Inspired me. Got me all fired up to be a poet.

wannberg“I wanted to publish this collection of Scott’s work to bring it to a wider audience and be entered into the American canon of literature. Though his work was peppered with metaphor, the message always comes through. Whether he’s talking about a little girl raped and murdered in a casino bathroom, or a young man bludgeoned to death in Wyoming because he was gay, or the power of Ella Fitzgerald’s voice, his words were true and free from moralizing. I think this was the real power of his work. I hope that the reader enjoys this cross-section of Scott’s work as it appeared in my old Lummox Journal (not to be confused with the Lummox Poetry Anthology that I have been publishing annually since 2012). I wish he were alive today if for no other reason than to hear him read some of my favorite poems. I hope you will agree with me after you have read this book, that he was one helluva writer! Scott was special. I can’t emphasize that enough. He was magic.”

Excerpt from the Introduction to the book by Raindog.

Scott Wannberg – The Lummox Years 1996 – 2006
ISBN 9781929878543
180 pgs. $20 USA only (includes shipping)
Edited by RD Armstrong

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To Be With A Woman

ToBeWithCover.inddI generally do not believe that books, especially poetry books, require an introduction. I make an exception here because there is a genuine break between the poetry I wrote from 1964 until 2007 and the poetry contained in this volume.

My wife, Gilda Mekler, died on February 7, 2007. Four months later (on June 5th of that year) I wrote the firs poem collected here. When Gilda died very shortly after her fifty-third birthday, I thought I would also die. Readers will note that this feeling informs several of the poems that follow. A few months later, my grief entered its second phase. When it appeared that I was not going to die, I passionately wanted to die, I longed for my days of sorrow to end. Eventually, this led to a third and quite shocking phase of what might be called the death experience: the realization that I had, in fact, died with Gilda on February 7th. Our lives ended together.

The Creator, however, had other plans for me, and the James Deahl who has written poetry and prose since that date, is a very different writer from the James Deahl who had written and published poetry for over four decades. I retain all the memories of that other poet, and I live in his body. And like him, I also labour in God’s vineyard, as Czesław Miłosz put it so well. Using the same name, I continue the work our Creator set out for us when that other writer was born following the close of World War II.

But I truly have been born anew. So this collection opens with twenty-three poems written between June 5 and November 14, 2007. These were published as a limited edition chapbook
by my friend and fellow poet, Allan Briesmaster, through his Aeolus House in 2008. This chapbook was my first writing since my death and rebirth.

The present volume closes with a handful of love poems written during the latter half of 2010 to an outstanding novelist and poet, Norma West Linder, who has, perhaps rashly, consented to join her life to mine. Between the Gilda poems of 2007 and the Norma poems of late 2010 lie several meditations on mortality. During this four-year period, a number of my friends died. This had, of course, been happening for quite some time, but their deaths had not been at the front of my mind. Many of these friends were younger than I was. After my wife died, I became keenly interested in the connection between love and death. And I questioned the passionate relationship between human joy and agony on the one hand and, on the other hand, Divine love.

I also took a deeper look at the theology of the Christian faith and the teachings of the Torah. I believe this activity is common, if not universal, among people who have already died once and know they will die again. Confronting death tends to clear the mind of all trivial concerns. Throughout this process, the writings of Father Thomas Merton were, and continue to be, my constant guide and companion. As this good priest has written, we should seek solace in God’s love.

No one knows my failings better than I do. I don’t propose to rehearse them here. Yet despite being a sinful and undeserving man, somehow — and I’m not sure how — I continue to live and enjoy all the beauty of this physical realm. I write, edit, translate, and do the work set out before me. I continue to love my three daughters and my granddaughter, and I love and honour my Norma and strive to be the man she deserves. All these and more are unexpected, and unearned, gifts. Clearly the bounty of our Creator’s grace and compassion passes all understanding.

From the Introduction by James Deahl, Sarnia, Ont. Canada, 2016

READ SAMPLES OF TO BE WITH A WOMAN HERE.

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152 pages
ISBN 978-1929878642

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Tracking the Rabbit

rabbitsThomas K. Armstrong, my father, died in early January 2015, in his sleep of a heart attack. He had suffered, over the past six years, from Vascular Dementia (the lesser-known half of senility, Alzheimer’s being the more widely known form). A month before, in Dec. of 2014, I had been to see him. This chapbook contains poems and blogs about that visit and his subsequent death.

People deal with the death of a parent in many ways: denial, anger, guilt, bargaining, transference…it goes on and on. Grief has no timetable either so it may take years for that loss to resolve itself (or it may never happen). In my case, I turned to a projection of my dad as a black rabbit. Some might call this transference or an animal fetish; I dunno.

I had a dream after his death and in the dream…”Suddenly, something was thrust into my arms: a medium sized furry thing as black as this night, unidentifiable except for its two white, buck teeth. Then I knew it was a black rabbit. I could feel its heart racing in fear (but also alive!) and pulled it closer. But just as suddenly as it had appeared it now leaped out of my arms and bolted into the dark! I was devastated, thinking that it had been a gift from my father, that I had not understood what it was until it was too late and now it was gone for good (like the old man)…but then, out of the darkness, the rabbit came bounding and leapt into my arms again!

I awoke from this dream wondering what in the world did this mean? I knew enough about Native-American lore to realize that the black rabbit was my father’s spirit animal and that it would guide him through the death process; and this little black bunny would serve as a talisman for me, as well…” (from the Introduction to the chapbook).

RD Armstrong uses the power of poetry for his elegiac mythology of grief. Everyone who has ever been on earth has died, and we never get used to this. Poets especially have to  speak/define/make sense of it. Armstrong’s natural strength as a writer uses an archetypal Rabbit as the central focus. This metaphor extends the glandular process of a body lost and born again. Armstrong commands the structure of prose narrative—as well as the economy of the poem— to memorialize his love for his father. In doing this, he brings everything to life again.

— Grace Cavalieri, “The Poet and the Poem from the Library of Congress”

A black rabbit jumps into a bereaved dreamer’s arms, bounds out, comes back, leaves. RD Armstrong tracks it through dream, poem, memoir, waking life, waking dream, blues, and rain. This mixed genre   tale of the poet’s loss of his real father and dreamed-of father, and coming to terms with it, is a stunner–– image-rich, narratively and descriptively tight and moving, emotionally powerful. The images and emotional honesty make the reader feel all the transformations of the dad and to the son in his journey of awakening.

— Jane Lipman, author of On the Back Porch of the Moon, winner of the 2013 New Mexico/Arizona Book Award for Poetry Book and a NM Press Women’s Award

You can read selections from this book, here.

ISBN 9781929878789
40 pages; $12

If you’d like to buy a copy of this chapbook via check, you can send your payment, made out to Lummox Press, in the amount of $15 (USA) or if you are outside the USA (WORLD orders), make your check out to Lummox Press in the amount of $25 and mail your check to PO Box 5301 San Pedro, CA 90733.

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Knitting the Warhol Bridge

WarholBridgeCover.inddThe poems in Ann Curran’s Knitting the Andy Warhol Bridge flash with a quiet brilliance. An adroit wordsmith, Curran turns clever on its head; her poems can become deadly at the least provocation, not to mention funny, dark, illuminating, and often, heartbreakingly sad. Her poems celebrate life in all its sullied glory. No subject escapes her critical gaze:

weddings, sports stadiums, parolees sharing a moment, adoption, racism, war, rumors, love, death. Even the penis is fair game for her wit. These poems sparkle with specifics; they dig deep, nudge the reader toward tolerance. “The New Pastor” “urges the faithful/ to open their hearts to different people: the food co-op kid with rings in his nose,/ lips and eyebrows, the Latino next door,/ college students with raucous beer parties,/ even the half-black U.S. president./ Put down the iPod, the Wi-Fi-fed notebook. / See the live people. …Deal with the real.” This timely, remarkable collection deals with the real in a profound and brand new way. It is a considerable achievement and a terrific read.

Alexis Rhone Fancher, poetry editor of Cultural Weekly, is author of State of Grace: The Joshua Elegies, and How I Lost My Virginity to Michael Cohen and other Heart Stab Poems

A poet’s muse can take many forms. Ann Curran finds inspiration in the personal stories and incidents of daily life. A journalism background informs her craft, but her stories would be hard to tell in a newspaper. It is her poetry that offers her the way to make sense of her world and ours. A native Pittsburgher, she finds much material locally, but, whatever the locale, her poetry is infused with humanity, wisdom, wit and grace.

Reg Henry is a nationally syndicated columnist for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

See a sample version of this book, here.

SUMMARY

In Knitting the Andy Warhol Bridge, poet Ann Curran takes you into Downtown Pittsburgh, looks at life—raging, whimpering, chuckling— at the bus stop, at the PNC/Y, along the three rivers where local knitters and crocheters decorated the bridge that commemorates Pittsburgh native Andy Warhol. That bridge leads to the North Side of town where the nation’s largest museum dedicated to a single artist attracts international visitors to ooh and aah, tap and punch at a roomful of inflated silver balloons and see shows that depict the brutal end of a routine southern picnic in the olden days —families, children to ancient grandmas, gather to watch a black man lynched. She’ll take you up the incline to Mount Washington, where her Irish immigrant grandparents landed in what they thought was luxury, where she’s lived for a couple of decades, blocks away from “the best urban view in the world.” Five minutes from Downtown, you’ll find deer and turkeys meandering through her yard. She’ll recall the G-20 visit to town, the steps to becoming a white racist or not. Music and religion seep into how she’s come to love her hometown and all the children and grandchildren of immigrants who, like her, still wave their other flag—in voice, in music, in food, in their very souls. You don’t have to be from Pittsburgh to enjoy the sounds and insights of this book. You just have to belong to the human race, diverse as the knitwork that dressed the Andy Warhol Bridge for a brief month one summer.

BIO

Ann Curran, president and CEO of Curran Ink, is author of Placement Test (Editor’s Choice, Main Street Rag) and Me First (Lummox Press). She has worked as a backroom bakery slave washing dirty pans and snitching icing, and as a conscientious journalist at the Pittsburgh Catholic and Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. A film reviewer of the love-to-hate school, she reported on new films and Pittsburgh Public Theater plays for the Market Square tabloid and covered the International Poetry Forum for the Pittsburgh Press, providing advance features and reviews of performances. She wrote features for half a dozen Pittsburgh Magazine editors. She also taught English at Duquesne University, her alma, as a graduate assistant, which placed her well below an adjunct professor. She learned grammar teaching remedial English at the Community College of Allegheny County, where she found her favorite, obscene example of passive voice written on a wall on her way to class to teach that chicken way of talking. For a couple of decades, she edited the prize-winning quarterly Carnegie Mellon Magazine at Carnegie Mellon University, while her boss, Don Hale, argued with assorted presidents about why they should not fire her. Otherwise, she plays tennis in four seasons, Shanghai Rum and 500 with cocoa bean fanatics, works out at the Y, does the laundry, sort of cooks, cleans the toilets and performs other poetic chores. Some how she managed to marry a kind, loving man—Ed Wintermantel. They raised the most thoughtful, sweetest daughter imaginable—Cristin Francis Curran Wintermantel. Ann sings at St. Mary of the Mount Church when the choir is in active voice and serves on the Parish Pastoral Council.

See a sample of Knitting the Andy Warhol Bridge here.

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In Between the Places Where Night Falls

InBetweenCover.indd

Something Like Paris

the doe teeters from Rosehill Cemetery
crossing Ravenswood Avenue
seeming lost on Mother’s Day, 8:15 a.m.
even fog and rain in the corner
this scene from a movie
except for the city as backdrop

you’re asleep in 14E
perhaps we’re above Roswell
the sky a bit too blue
babies silent since take-off
the gentleman in 8F with a mustache,
sunglasses atop his head, and blue shirt
seems distracted, sore, or both
the attendant hilarious
flight 1156 to Las Vegas
shifts for the first time
and you awaken, fearful

In Between the Places Where Night Falls unveils the first years of a relationship. These free verse poems journey through rural Michigan and the Pacific Northwest, eventually leading to the urban backdrops of Chicago, Dubuque, London, Sarasota, and Vancouver. Beauty and grit revolve around two people through a unique voice. — Joris Soeding

Buy it today from the publisher, Lummox Press. Ordering details below…

36 pages; $12 + Shipping & Handling
ISBN 9781929878611 

If you want to order more than one copy, please contact me for pricing.

Single Book Ordering by check/money order:
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Last Man Standing

LastManCoverLast Man Standing
“Let’s ride the angels goodbye.”
—Jack Micheline

Just before the bar war to end all
bar wars, the girl with an unbreakable
heart leaned over the bar, ripped
the buttons off her shirt and said,
“I don’t need no ink or silicone to
prove I’m a 100% Grade A
American Babe.”
The way she said it seemed more
like a statement of fact than an offer
or a dare: regardless, no one was
inclined to disagree. So the barman
was thinking, momentarily distracted
before the overhead rail lights were
pulled down, long neck Buds hit the back
bar bottles and wall to wall chaos ensued:
a flash flood of violence taking out
everything in its way. If this were
an indie movie all these bodies in motion
would be slowed to half speed,
made into a grotesque ballet,
a techno Rave with flickering lights
momentarily revealing distorted faces,
flexing muscles, a strange, almost
beautiful, mise en scene only a 911
call could interrupt, could make complete,
with police whistles, drawn truncheons,
and Taser light shows; but it wasn’t
a movie, only something like real life.
Hours after, the blood dries on
the hardwood floors, the click of
the muted jukebox cycling most
played songs, priming the invisible
crowds, and an almost suffocating
rush of forced wet air as the lifeless
night turns into day. The last man
standing behind the bar sips his
bottomless pint, and cut glass shots,
through a short straw, dulled pains slowly
ebbing into an alcoholic daze.

Alan Catlin

LAST MAN STANDING (the title poem appears above) could be a crazy memoir of Alan’s 35 years in the barman/bartender business; but it is also a testimonial to his story telling abilities… consider the poem, Dead Enders

Dead Enders

They were coasting the long
unlighted downhill, engine off,
headlamps out, the guy in driver’s
seat holding on to the wheel as if
it could provide life support, wasted
out of his mind, the others in varying
degrees of unconsciousness, driver
telling the other clowns not to breathe
so much the inside windows were
fogging so he couldn’t see a damned
thing through the ice on the windshield,
gas gauge way below empty, near-bald
tires sliding on slick patches of black
ice; the moonlight on dented guard rails
in the hard curving dark.

Here, he builds you up to a crescendo, describing the scenery, the structural integrity of the storyline and then, almost matter of factly, he tosses out a clue as to what’s led up to this point in time.

This is an excellent book full of poetry that is, at times, dead pan it its delivery and at other times, almost sardonic. Alan has a dry sense of humor; one expects this from a man who was the confidant to countless intoxicated patrons and an observer of 35 years of sad examples of the human race!

Alan Catlin has been part of the small press scene for over forty years. During that time he has watched the evolution of the alternative presses from mimeographs to online publishing.  His rich publishing history includes venerable small press standards such as the Wormwood Review. He considers that having two of his books considered the most neglected book of the year by Marvin Malone, legendary editor of Wormwood, his highest honor. One of his claims to fame is that he is only poet ever to have been published by Street Bagel, Poked with Sticks, Comet Halley, The Literary Review, Descant, The Seattle Review and Wordsworth’s Socks. Among his many full length books and chapbooks are: Visiting Day on the Psychiatric Ward, Self Portrait of the Artist Afraid of His Self Portrait, The legendary Killer Drinks Series which includes a little red book (Lummox Press), Death and Transfiguration Cocktail, Alien Nation and Beautiful Mutants. He is a retired professional barman who can now claim to be a full time working poet with a straight face and mean it.

Listen to Alan do his thing.

Read a sample from Last Man Standing

ISBN 978-1-929878-53-6
162 pages, 6 X 9 inches, Trade Paper
$15 + Shipping

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Henry River by Tim Peeler

Henry_RiverThe ghost town of Henry River is located in the southeast corner of Burke County in the Foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in western North Carolina. Built at the turn of the 20th Century, the village, as it is often called now, has been mostly deserted since the 1970’s when, soon after a change in ownership, the mill burned. The brick company store still stands along with twenty or so haggard rent houses that line State Road 1002 as it meanders uphill toward Interstate 40, a little over a mile away.

In 2011, a film company chose Henry River as the location for the protagonist’s childhood home in the first Hunger Games movie. Interest in the site sky rocketed. Individuals and tour groups made the location a destination. What had been a popular spot for photographers and those with an interest in local and regional history now became a part of pop culture.

The poems in this volume reflect on the historical Henry River with some reference to the intrusive forces of the film industry. Some are responses to photographs; others are based on stories that Henry River natives have shared with me, while some are sheer flights of fancy. All of them, however, share an empathy and reverence for those who lived and worked in Henry River.

 

It’s always been difficult for me to wade through the subjective haze, which has become contemporary American poetry.  At first glance that might seem to be a rather bland statement.  Yet, since Whitman and Dickinson introduced the world to the concept of “organic verse,” American poets have taken the genre in multiple directions that continue to expand.  To list the exponentially growing movements would be little more than a rudimentary exercise in “who knows what.”

However, when the smoke clears the method of overwhelming choice has become the free verse narrative.  That which seems easy while being anything but.  Think about writing a song.  Consider the relationship between Brian Wilson and Mike Love when Love focuses upon “the hook.”  A poet has that luxury only in the context of the more primitive levels on the rung.  The present day narrative wordsmiths are often torn between their concepts of what is or is not profound.  Dr. Williams showed us that profundity has a natural existence in the simple recording of reality and the concept of “things.”

I met Tim Peeler in 1999.  Oddly, it was a simple complimentary note related to a piece of fiction I’d read in a small press journal.  He immediately directed me to his recently published book of poems, “Touching All the Bases,” a collection of baseball poetry.  I knew immediately that I had to meet him.  After that we began a correspondence that hasn’t lost its strength over these past 15 years.  I’ve had not only the pleasure of publishing several of his books, but the privilege of watching him hone his craft on a daily basis.  I can’t recall the exact moment when I realized he had found “it,” but I remember vividly realizing at some point that he’d reached a very significant plateau and that all the tools were in order to allow his visions and perceptions to take hold.

In America, we’ve long since passed a point in which “culture” can be an all inclusive concept.  We are a potpourri of cultures.  Some so tiny as to be almost less than obscure.  Tim Peeler looks at the amalgam of community, breaks down the cultures, and assesses them poetically with the keenest of visions.  He sees the things that the rest of us have viewed for so long that we no longer notice.  There is a value in such perceptions as well as a beauty that only the weakest among us can ignore.

Carter Monroe
April 21, 2015
A past winner of the Jim Harrison Award for contributions to baseball literature, Tim Peeler has also been a Casey Award Finalist (baseball book of the year) and a finalist for the SIBA Award. He lives with his wife, Penny in Hickory, North Carolina, where he directs the academic assistance programs at Catawba Valley Community College. He has written thirteen books and this is his third chapbook.

Henry River – An American Ruin
ISBN 9781929878703
Perfect Bound 5.5 X 8.5
$12

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In the Shadow of the Bomb

 

GardnerCoverThis book of poems was written for people who normally wouldn’t read poetry. Through these stories you are taken on a forty year journey that began during the height of the cold war and carries onto the new millennium; from one side of the country to the other.

Nothing is hidden in these words, all the veneer is stripped away to show the beautiful vulgarity that is life and humanity. These poems read like the pink slip the foreman just handed you or the three day pay or quit notice tacked to the door of the apartment. It is the beeping of the repo-truck and the sudden surprise of the electricity being turned off. It is the first kiss, the first fight, and the first divorce.

-Timothy Spencer

Poems like “Paying Rent,” In the Shadow of the Bomb,” and “Bar Fighting with Mullets,” demonstrate both his matter of fact ethic and his combination of humor and pathos. Gardner can use the same 16-line poem to make you laugh and make you pause for a moment.

The geography of Gardner’s imagination is the California of Steinbeck, Woody Guthrie, Bukowski and Tom Waits. Family memories are recounted and childhood heroes populate the poems. The vocabulary is everyday life and Gardner’s objective is to show you the world through his eyes.

-Mike “The Poet” Sonksen

I think Joe Garner deals with life the way he does because I think he grew up in uncertainty, in the shadow of the bomb. I knew a few of these kids in their 20’s who came into this life living under a cloud…of radioactivity; never knowing when or where the end would come, but having this “truth” rammed down their throats for the first 20.

And then,suddenly, it was over…the threat was gone!?! This generation stumbled on trying to shed the suspicious mind that had brought them through. And we all heaved a sigh of relief and let our guards down. This generation became complacent and unfocused.  Then 9/11 happened and the old paranoia got a reprieve…

When you read this book, you can join Joe in bearing witness to this part of our history  See our world. your world as Joe sees it. Perhaps, you’ll notice a voice in your head, crying out against our treatment of our world…and if you do, don’t be scared, you’re not going crazy…that’s the voice of your moral outrage!!!!

Savor it while you can…

Read an excerpt of In the Shadow of the Bomb.

In the Shadow of the Bomb by Joseph Gardner
252 pages Trade Paper 6 X 9
ISBN 978-1-929878-68-0
$18 (+ S & H)

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Blood in the Mix

blood in the mix

I have waited a long time to publish these two poets. When I first broached the subject of publishing a collection of poetry by John Macker, I had no idea that it would also include the work of the gifted (and award winning) poet Lawrence Welsh. These two men, one from Santa Fe, New Mexico and one from El Paso, Texas, have been pivotal in creating a school of Southwestern Poetry which was inspired by the likes of Tony Scibella and Tony Moffeit.

This is a solid, 50 poem collection. All stand alone poems, yet all linked to each other as if pointing out the intrinsic influence of both the people’s and landscape that unites these two poets. New Mexico is aptly named “the land of enchantment” and it has served as a backdrop for this fantastic page turner! You won’t be disappointed!

“In this collaboration, you’ll find two completely different ways to put words on the page. I was Larry’s idea to join forces, so to speak, to present differing styles right next to each other, up close and personal, to communicate not just a vision, but an assemblage of visions. We realize that part of our job description is to, as Lorca explained, break open the pomegranite (the English language translation for Lorca’s beloved Granada), and discover ‘the blood of the wounded earth.’ Its passions and mysteries.” — from the Introduction by John Macker.

ISBN 978-1-929878-77-2
92 PAGES; 6 x 9; Trade Paper

$15 Retail

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