Fucking and Other Poems by Don Yorty
Don Yorty's long awaited Fucking and Other Poems is now available directly from Indolent Books. Order yours now! Purchase price of $20.00 includes SHIPPING!
Now available! Purchase price of $20.00 includes SHIPPING!
Praise for the poet and his book
Poetry’s no slouch and Don Yorty is a master.
—Dennis Cooper
There is so much to enjoy in Don Yorty’s volume of selected early poetry, Fucking and Other Poems, it’s hard to pick. You could make a video of this book, or a string quartet. Or you could lie back and enjoy it.
—Alicia Ostriker
For all the passion (a lot) in Fucking and Other Poems, there’s an equal measure of compassion. Don Yorty sees with his heart. He walks with Whitman. His poems touch us in myriad ways.
—Elaine Equi
As I’m sure you know, there are all kinds of fucking. What the fuck. Fucking A. Fucked up. Fucked over. You’re fucked. But that’s not the kind of fucking Don Yorty’s Fucking and Other Poems is. This fucking is intimacy and vulnerability and emotion and clarity. These poems give to you as you give in to them and then you can give them away. This book is a gift.
—Bob Holman
In Fucking and Other Poems, Don Yorty liberates the poetic music hiding behind sex, love and relationships—behind art, nature and words. On every page you witness the celebration of a mind dancing with its body. What a gift it is to have this underground classic available in its entirety!
—Jerome Sala
Fucking and Other Poems, Don Yorty’s new poetry collection, has an acute awareness of the music inherent in language. The title poem, an epic-length meditation on love, sex, and mortality, propulsively weaves William Burroughs, Janis Joplin, and other alt-culture figures into a narrative whose structure ably draws upon his sensibilities as a classics scholar. Bookending this contemporary epic are smaller-scale works, including a selection of “dailyness” travel notebook poems, that display his impressive range. For Yorty, there’s music in the grand sweep of human history and there’s music in the sound of owls’ wings in the night.
—Peter Bushyeager