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  • By steffan piper
    Oct 15, 2009
    "Woo Hoo! I shouted as I laughed out loud ..." Frank Reardon deserves much praise for this tome of dried blood, spent energy and puzzlewood floor that is the mass of his work. His statement is like a binary signal being transmitted through deep space hoping that someone will chance upon it and tune it in for a closer listen. The sound of the poetic distress signal washes across the reader like filth, like hot wind, like a vagrant, like all our lives together. Frank Readon's navigational calculations may be aiming for your heart but you're more than likely to end up getting it in the gut and doubling over in burning pain. You can hear the sound of desperate white longing that is generational and frothy as it waits for the next ear to land upon it. Frank's voice is that of a traveler, a dope fiend, a drunk, a degenerate, a father, a son, a workmate and sometimes even a friend. Don't go gentle into his text, but go armed to the teeth with dead bullets, a holocaust brain and... More > arm-and-arm with dollar store hobo's. This is a fantastic piece of modern poetry fit for the new world.< Less
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Product Details

Edition
First Edition
Publisher
Hand Grenade
Published
June 29, 2008
Language
English
Pages
69
Binding
Perfect-bound Paperback
Interior Ink
Black & white
Weight
0.34 lbs.
Dimensions (inches)
6 wide x 9 tall
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