Theresa: a poet’s view of a woman an death’s door that survives the elements to continue life’s uneasy trail. Another woman I met named Ski-mo Mary comes to mind. Her teeth wound down from chewing leather and dark a pyramid of 3.2 beer to point of staggering; then blew the service men for one one swig on an isolated base that no one knew where she lived, but was assumed somewhere in Happy Valley, Labrador, Canada. One more poem to be waiting to be told. Thanks for memories.
I read with Kell Robertson several times in New Mexico and he read often at my open mic here in Taos in the early 90s, during the Taos Poetry Circus. I was included in the issue of Desperado he put together with Kendall McCook, his friend and publisher. What an honor it was for a South African expat to ride with the ultimate cowboy beat poet! Kell was the real deal - he lived as hard as he wrote.
I like Kell's poem very much. It's interesting, before I finished the poem, or saw your mention of Bukowski, I was comparing the two. I think they both have hard life souls. Thank you for introducing me to an exciting voice in poetry.
Not sure why, I should know him better, but just this sample gives me shivers… bad shivers. Like witnessing a rape. He’s macho. And crude. And sounds like an asshole to me, but I could be wrong.
This is outlaw poetry at its finest. He was a great man who wasn't scared to write honestly about the dark side of humanity. Anyways, we need a little more muscle in poetry. It's become so sterile and soft and mostly unreadable. Give me blood and guts over sunshine and rainbows.
Who said anything about sunshine and rainbows? Maybe his muscle power is about swiggin alcohol, swingin guns and fucking dirt-poor beaten women, but there are different ways of flexing honest muscle to show the dark side of humanity. Then again, I’m just going by this sample, and I usually love the ones you post. This one seems, in any case, real to the core American, like you said: blood and guts.. and alcohol, guns, and total disgust for what women can become in the eyes of babe hunters.
Theresa: a poet’s view of a woman an death’s door that survives the elements to continue life’s uneasy trail. Another woman I met named Ski-mo Mary comes to mind. Her teeth wound down from chewing leather and dark a pyramid of 3.2 beer to point of staggering; then blew the service men for one one swig on an isolated base that no one knew where she lived, but was assumed somewhere in Happy Valley, Labrador, Canada. One more poem to be waiting to be told. Thanks for memories.
"His voice sounds like his throat has been sandblasted raw, gravel over gravel, bourbon through phlegm."
What a description alright! 🗿👍🏻
I read with Kell Robertson several times in New Mexico and he read often at my open mic here in Taos in the early 90s, during the Taos Poetry Circus. I was included in the issue of Desperado he put together with Kendall McCook, his friend and publisher. What an honor it was for a South African expat to ride with the ultimate cowboy beat poet! Kell was the real deal - he lived as hard as he wrote.
I like Kell's poem very much. It's interesting, before I finished the poem, or saw your mention of Bukowski, I was comparing the two. I think they both have hard life souls. Thank you for introducing me to an exciting voice in poetry.
It wasn't me, Todd Moore wrote this. But yeah, I hear you.
Not sure why, I should know him better, but just this sample gives me shivers… bad shivers. Like witnessing a rape. He’s macho. And crude. And sounds like an asshole to me, but I could be wrong.
This is outlaw poetry at its finest. He was a great man who wasn't scared to write honestly about the dark side of humanity. Anyways, we need a little more muscle in poetry. It's become so sterile and soft and mostly unreadable. Give me blood and guts over sunshine and rainbows.
Who said anything about sunshine and rainbows? Maybe his muscle power is about swiggin alcohol, swingin guns and fucking dirt-poor beaten women, but there are different ways of flexing honest muscle to show the dark side of humanity. Then again, I’m just going by this sample, and I usually love the ones you post. This one seems, in any case, real to the core American, like you said: blood and guts.. and alcohol, guns, and total disgust for what women can become in the eyes of babe hunters.
So raw and so real. Love finding poets I’m not familiar with in your posts. Thank you!
Picture vague reminder of HSThomson who I just posted about. Great photo.
I have to track down his work now
Thanks for turning me on to this dude. Never heard of him before now.
I've read lots better on the same topic.