The Boulder CO address and occasional drug references make me think there's some connection to Naropa (where Ginsberg holds forth). The poetry is more down-to-earth than my remembrance of hippie-kids from there, and better written. Amari Baraka kicks it off strong and black/proud; Jack Collom does the last call in the "Sundown Saloon"; in between, Bukowski probably speaks for everyone concerened when he sez "the Paris Review ain't crap/to me".--luigi
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #1,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
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