Publisher's Synopsis
Poetry by Art Crummer and his characters.No two poems are alike. In fact, upon further reflection, no three are the same. Especially: Hear these words I sing you now create. / Our palms join / your shadow voice / plaits my page / your breath, my new life / Reader Author fugue / meld two minds / your echo response / my fruit ripeI have worn other people / body and mind / walked anguished shoes / absorbed agony / woven times fabric / yours with mine. Everyone I've written, we've been / every belief under the moon / Hurry: minutes dissolve. / We will die before the song ends.Embrace every compass / our grand conception of All ... eclipsed / Raise your makeshift pinhole box / to poem's fine film, gaze / through theory's milky lens / past my protective layers. Or perhaps: This is a Participatory PoemYour part becomes evident as the lines professeven though your mind drifts, perhaps even now, a sibilant sound, a precious word choice, a particular plosive takes you out ... inward-You were nine, a dog cocked his head, the playground teacher hissed, or smiled (the poem continuing without you) and old school bells echo you inhale lunchroom banana smells- Okay, you may have missed a line or two ( you can reread poems: )DEDICATED: To My English TeacherHer life's work, this shiny new theoryof everything remembered how red wagons glistenin brilliant spring rain mental mudher seedinside.
