My manuscript got picked up like a hitchhiker, bedraggled
and haggard, and I need words to cover the back cover.
I don’t want to rouse any of my poet friends from their
lonely fame. They should be writing poems, not blurbs.
They should be jogging or having prescriptions filled.
We can all agree on this, I think. They should be tending
to their gardens and their students. They should be
closing the bar, working on their lines.
I could walk up to Matthew Dickman at AWP and go
“Matthew, please blurb my book” and he might do it.
See, I’m on a first name basis with Matthew Dickman,
so you should read me would be what the blurb would
say, regardless of what words he put in it.
Eduardo Corral is the nicest guy in po-biz, and I’ll bet
I could cajole him into writing “These richly-inhabited
poems glimpse the mysteries and do not flinch when
confronted with the inevitablity of tragedy. In his latest
collection to date, Hunley ricochets between irreverent
defiance and childlike awe. Reading this book is like taking
jello shots at Disneyland.” But what would that mean?
Don’t ask me; ask Eduardo.
Wayne State College Press
Hunley, Tom, "Plunk" (2015). English Faculty Book Gallery. 18.