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t. Winter-Damon:

PO Box 321
Beech Grove IN 46107

52 pp., $5.95

This is Baudelairian visionary excess at its finest, with a bit of Rimbaud (and Rambo) mixed into the brew. Damon does a Dionysian danse macabra on the razor's edge of things, like a shaman invoking intense verbal energies to shake the mental routine and reveal the delicious terrors just beyond the edges of your senses. His poems are great sweeps of language, swinging back around you, forming satisfying circles of imagery you didn't even suspect until they were done. At their best, these poems are like strong nectar. Exotic, intoxicating and addictive.--Thomas Willoch

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This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #1,
Copyright Burning Press 1993, 1996.

Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press