Written daily while traveling backpacking through Spain and a bit of Western Europe, inspired by Neruda’s Residence on Earth. These are poems of the profound, vaguely magical loneliness that follows travelers. First published as a section of Inhaling the Train Wreck, later revised and reissued with its brother, El diario del cuchillo verde.
The first of two volumes digging his nails largely into Spanish Fascism – a subject Gary knows a fair bit about, personally and academically. A resident of Franco’s Spain for several years in the 1970s, Gary saw (and provoked) a genuine police state, and lived to deliver us these poems.
Damien’s first collection (ever, to our knowledge) initiated a career-long obsession with seeing Albuquerque receives its due. Poems about state political history, the importance of lying grandparents, love and Chicano culture create a confident weave of the Duke City, native son to loving mother.
Some classic Solís is covered in this book, and those lucky boys and girls who got their hands on it aren’t likely to give it up any time soon.
A poem a day for 63 days, like its sibling, Quijotesco, but whereas those poems were written while traveling Spain, these were written mostly on Adam’s newly-acquired porch in Albuquerque. This is a deliberately quiet production.