Anthony Sobin taught at Wichita State University a few decades ago and was the editor, along with Arthur Vogelsang, of the Ark River Review, an excellent literary magazine published in Wichita , so I was familiar with his name.
When I found his book at the library, I found I really like his work. It comes out of that particular vein of poetry, that surreal, dark, comic, almost countercultural almosphere where can be found (some of my favorite) poets like James Tate, Paul Hannigan, Adam Hammer. Consider:
Climbing the high trails
panting the thin air
we are surrounded
by countless invisible hunts.
Few victims ever escape
and those that do
always bear the tiny scars
of hooked feet and tight mandibles
They will never be safe
from tomorrow’s enemies
or even the dangers
of their own short lifespans
which grow quietly like stones
in the pits of the fleeing bodies.
Our legs grow heavy with the thought of it.
There is no place safe enough to rest–
where we might avoid looking down
loking down and seeing ourselves
breathless and shrinking, bleeding uncontrollably
through all the closed tubes of our bodies.
This book is definitely one I would like to have a copy of. Grade: B+