at the end was the word

i make no bones about it. straight up: jim mccrary is the shit and even tho i can almost hear him say in his whisky voice, lopez, knock this crap off, i'll say it just the same: mccrary is not only a dear friend but one of my teachers in our world of words.

his stance in living in the word while not giving a fuck about careerism, the way his lines and images crackle like the frames of a great film, but with some speckling and a few jumps and burn marks on the celluloid, his dedication to the craft, and his humility of spirit, make him, and i say this with a straight face, a great man and poet.

i say it and say it loud. the dude makes me glad to be alive and reading. so after being forced into a retirement brought on, i think, by the present dire economy mccrary's as fecund as ever. witness the batches of poems he published on his blog resisting poetry and try to resist these goodies. then click over to here for a profile and interview with the poet.

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