Description
Rife with guns, tattoos, booze, wounds, and lost teeth, these explosive narrative lyrics imagine what it means to try and fail and still go on.
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Rife with guns, tattoos, booze, wounds, and lost teeth, these explosive narrative lyrics imagine what it means to try and fail and still go on.
“Reading Laura McCullough’s new book I feel the way I once felt after seeing Scorcese’s Mean Streets for the first time-like someone had taken the bits and pieces of my life and made them whole for a moment, a besieged glamour cast like a spell over barroom and bedroom and kitchen alike. And I do mean glamour. Grainy, sweaty, sly, pissed-off, sweet-smelling, headstrong, sad-eyed, immensely loyal glamour.”
-David Rivard
Ultimately, language is the cathedral in McCullough’s work, and that, too, falls under the speaker’s scrutiny via the interrogation of the line. Still, this collection offers “pleasures we can steal along the way” and, near the end, a great call to be alive in our own time, as well as a tenderness for those who live beside us.”
-Brian Turner
‘We all want to look lovely in the end,/or at least used up,/like we took the ride as far as it would go,/got out, and jumped’, McCullough writes, and that’s exactly what these poems full of tattoos and sex and war and longing do. They jump, they fly across the page as they reveal a mind that questions and reveres in equal measure.”
-Bob Hicok
These poems invite you to behold a world, and invite you to bare witness to a writer who understands how hard it is ‘…to recover from a week of living/ above water.’ There is a howling in these poems, as the writer stares unflinchingly at the world that usually exists outside of poetry and does something far more audacious than testify. She sings.”
-R. Dwayne Betts