I'll be the first to admit I shouldn't be writing this for two reasons: It's not kind to the author and it's not fair to the reading public who will now be made aware of this book's existence. But, what the hell, this book was sent to me by a poet friend with a note attached asking "how badly does this suck?" I took it as a challenge.

How badly does this book suck? Well, let me put it to you this way: Of the thousands of poems I've read this year, these poems rank among the rankest. Here's a sample: "Women are a bane to man/ Be they daughters, wives, or lover/ The only one who was kind to me/ Was my dear departed mother?" All of the poems in this book read pretty much the same way. The language is trite and the rhymes are forced, with not one solitary bit of originality in the mix. One blurb promises that no one who reads this book will remain "untouched." Believe that, but take it as a threat.

The best thing about this book is the authors' photo on the back cover. Mr. Grant tries very hard to look serious and contemplative, but he appears, instead, to be taking a dump, which is, I suspect, how these poems were written. Stay away from this collection. If it comes to you in the mail anyway -- burn it. This book is nothing but a pile of Grade-A National Library of Poetry- approved crap.

- JCE