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By Jim Daniels

In start Marks, Jim Daniels examines how our origins mark us ceaselessly. From Detroit to Pittsburgh, he explores the lives of standard humans in a global which frequently turns out tilted opposed to them. His tricky, unflinching poems recount kin myths, city decay, his personal lies, and the fight for survival in a post-industrial international because the economic climate crumbles round us.

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Sample text

Think of a big pink horse galloping south; think of a fly, and close your mouth. If you feel thirsty, then drink from your cup. The birds will keep singing until they wake up.

Highway shrine, lighthouse of time in the bleachedgold winter wheat— listening in another tongue, I walk there Come help through the long hour of our death    for Beth Rain land, walnut blossoms raining white where I walk at sixteen bright light in the north wind Still sleeping bees at the grove’s heart (my heart’s) till the sun its “wake now” kiss, the million friendly gold huddlings and burrowings of them hearing the shining wind I hear, my only cure for the loneliness I go through: more.

Think of a big pink horse galloping south; think of a fly, and close your mouth. If you feel thirsty, then drink from your cup. The birds will keep singing until they wake up.

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