Description

Poems about getting old and not liking it. About getting high on Christmas Eve. About a hole in the sky where Toronto's landmark Honest Ed's used to be. About killing mosquitoes and petting strange dogs and a homeless man who feeds the pigeons who are always happy to see him. About tuning out and turning off and unplugging. About friends who've died and confused skyscrapers on foggy days and Nabokov in his underwear. About shame in the evening, regret in the morning, and, if there's time, a nap in the afternoon. About a world where the Clash is classic rock and experience killed curiosity and the corpse wondered what's next. And "Why I Am Not a Poet," an introductory memoir about growing up and becoming a writer in Toronto in the 80s and 90s—it's long gone bars, bookstores, and people—is a lively preface to the poetry.

The Old Man in the Mirror Isn't Me: Last Call Haiku

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£15.26

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Paperback / softback by Ray Robertson

2 in stock

Short Description:

Poems about getting old and not liking it. About getting high on Christmas Eve. About a hole in the sky... Read more

    Publisher: Exile Editions
    Publication Date: 30/07/2020
    ISBN13: 9781550968736, 978-1550968736
    ISBN10: 1550968734

    Number of Pages: 96

    Fiction , Poetry

    Description

    Poems about getting old and not liking it. About getting high on Christmas Eve. About a hole in the sky where Toronto's landmark Honest Ed's used to be. About killing mosquitoes and petting strange dogs and a homeless man who feeds the pigeons who are always happy to see him. About tuning out and turning off and unplugging. About friends who've died and confused skyscrapers on foggy days and Nabokov in his underwear. About shame in the evening, regret in the morning, and, if there's time, a nap in the afternoon. About a world where the Clash is classic rock and experience killed curiosity and the corpse wondered what's next. And "Why I Am Not a Poet," an introductory memoir about growing up and becoming a writer in Toronto in the 80s and 90s—it's long gone bars, bookstores, and people—is a lively preface to the poetry.

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