Mark Vinz's prose poems are brief, no-frill recountings of his everyday life, neither sordid enough to be called confessional nor dramatized enough to be pure fiction. He writes of the "blue stuff" used to clean toilets, the joys of taking an afternoon nap, and the problem of running out of gas in front of the state prison. Vinz's prose is direct and simple, using few metaphors or allusions, and his first-person narrator speaks in a comfortably ordinary voice. In these texts, there seems to be no boundary between Vinze's life and art, between the private man and the public persona...
Imagine that.--Thomas Willoch
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #3,
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Copyright Burning Press 1993, 1995.