At That

by Skip Fox

Poetry. Skip Fox, with the concern of an entomologist, presents passages sprawling and pinned in a shadow box of observations and odd lots. Framed under double glass, the mounting board of AT THAT writhes with a cast of Ezekiel in the streets, a kitty bomb squad, sadists on steroids, the shadow of Cadmus, kingfishers, omen clad apertures of evening with cicada wings, heart attacks of clouds rolling in off the Gulf, a city mouse, spastic proctologists, and so forth, all projecting their "goods" in smatterings, obsolete creeds, mordacious stumps, "furious opinions, exaggerations, fabrications," neo-prophetic stylings, verbal molestations, elegiac mumblings, the silence above a shallow grave, etc. Currently serving what appears to be a life sentence at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, Skip Fox has worked in woods, warehouses, shake and shingle mills, lumber yards, ketchup & catfood factories, mental hospitals, and so on.

192 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2005

Reviews

[Stephen Kirbach]

Sly indeed, a diabolical meditation on all things irreverent plus lots of cats. Interruptions.

-English Department, n. A dog screaming around the torn edges of a restriction. A fruit basket up its ass.

Fitting, last name and terminal punch for the holiday bash.