by Anthony Robinson; cover art by August Herling.
edition of 200
…well-connected and a little wretched, not to mention, also, full of guts and jive…
This chap comprises the first installment of Anthony Robinson’s ambitious 81 poems project. These 9-lined poems, flickering both with moments of chaos and supreme clarity, take the utterly ordinary quite seriously. Hoping to find meaning in the fleeting and daily, each poem begins to unveil (to the poet as well as the reader) the dissolution of a relationship. Robinson provides for each poem a back-story — or, the literary equivalent of a liner note — that provides both factual and emotional citation. These poems bring us the weather, they bring us bacon and tulips, they bring us the voices of a myriad of poets and musicians, and they bring us also, as it applies to love and loss, “a sort of vision.”
Even dead/tired (like I am today) I think Anthony Robinson’s poems are tops! — by which I mean, they wake me up good! — by which I mean, they fly! — and this makes me want to disassemble (if I could disassemble) the whole dogged universe — word by word, line by line — and give it to him to be put in the proper marvelous (dis) order — one that’s just like the poems in BRIEF WEATHER & I GUESS A SORT OF VISION, “which are well-connected and a little wretched, not to mention, also, full of guts and jive. Talkative notational, and stuttering with feeling, there’s no guessing about it — these poems go full-tilt whatever the weather, nine lines at a time and adorned “with lovely scribbles.” Prepare to shake your butt. “Glory be.”
—Matt Hart
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