There is just one man thrown upon the earth, belly-naked, and seeing with his eye. yes, I said “eye.” most of us are born poets. it is only when
our elders get to us and begin to teach us that the poet dies. Richmond has not been “gotten to” yet. maybe they will get to him. but, as yet, these poems are memorable bellows and wailings and cussings. these poems are the living work of a living man. these poems are Art. be glad you are here to read them. … a young man bringing it to you through the fire of the bombarded graveyard.
—Charles Bukowski

Richmond’s poems here, now . . . a young man bringing it to you through the fire of the bombarded graveyard.
—Charles Bukowski

Trade paperback - 112 pages - $12.00
8" x 8 1/2" - ISBN 0941543056

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