Gerald Locklin remains one of my all-time favorite poets. Though he claims to have learned a lot from me, I continually learn from him. With all the erudition and life experience underpinning his seemingly simple poems, his sardonic virility, his nimble wit, and good sense leave no room for pretentiousness. I’m eternally grateful for his radical rejection of fashionable affectations -- the surface simplicity and plain speech are the result of true artfulness and sophistication. I continually rediscover his work, and as new books keep appearing over the years, the poems never stop rewarding and delighting me.

—ed field

I am most happy to say that this book celebrates the poet Gerald Locklin. It is an homage to Gerald Locklin, a poet whose neck of the woods is the literary underground, which is the publishing stratum that has delivered Howl and The Maximus Poems and Ulysses and The Making of Americans and Flower Fist and Bestial Wail.  Not a bad list. Certainly, yes, this book is a tribute to Gerry Locklin and it is long and fat. It is also a tribute to iceberg lettuce and French’s Mustard. It is a tribute to Locklin’s independent voice. His is a forceful, absolutely clear and democratic voice that constantly reminds all of us in the realm of the poem that our poetry is all of us who make all of our poetry.

—Michael Basinski

 

 

My Kinda Guy

leaving the downtown bar at closing.
i hear this one young guy say to his buddy,
“you got any beer at your place?”

and the buddy says, I got some columbian
and a little coke
and there’s a guy right in the neighborhood
would bring over some heroin.”

and the first guy says,

“yeah, but do you have any beer?”

 

—Gerald Locklin