Blasphemer

Poetry painted on a bomb falling out of a plane. BLASPHEMER doesn't fuck around. Yarrow is wonderfully possessed.—Bud Smith, F-250 Enthusiasm like percolating lava courses through these poems, scraping away all that is dull and obvious. These poems are not so much narratives or experiments in form, but explorations, and not just explorations even, but celebrations of poetic conceits turned inside out so that only the star-crawling blood of the imagination remains.—John Goode, Graduating from Eternity With inquiries into both faith and love, Bill Yarrow's BLASPHEMER provides the irreverent gaze you were looking for in subversive poetics. The hot blush, too.—Heather Fowler, Bare Bulbs Swinging