Terra:

From the utopian bar at the end of the night, over a steaming cup of joe on a Chardonnay morning, Leathem's poems emphatically embrace what the poet Charles Olson called, "...a human universe."

Why We Love Our Cats and Dogs:

Felis Catus and Canis Familiaris are seldom mere pets. From the nuance of language’s latent gender references to a mirror of an anthropomorphized truth about our humanity, this is a clever collection wherein Miller is a master at his craft.

Devils, Dice and Car Parts:

Careening from these pages are dank rumblings, the foreplay of loneliness, the last chance crack of pool balls, galaxies of stars and crickets and the fluorescent promise of love gone way wrong.

Open Letter (to Dark Gods of the Ancient World):

Boot-stomping poetry with a sharkskin sheen. A desperado's dazzle in a bobbing pork-pie hat. Ryberg is an arch-romantic, a hopeless secret admirer, a surrealist visionary and an incorrigible night prowler.

Report from the Frontier:

For Savino, poetry must always begin with a capital "P." It is divinity possessing one's soul. Like the volatile Gods of ancient Greece, it sometimes marvels quietly and other times it rages feverishly.

True Stories from la Cosa Nostra:

Like William Kennedy's Phelans or Puzo's Corleones, Tato weaves a tale of an all-American family in the throws of cultural assimilation. It is poetry with bathos and idiom, wry, blunt and staccato.