The Jim Brodey book Heart of Breath (Hard Press) contains some great, loose passages. There's a desperate, lonely quality to Brodey's poetry that makes me wonder if Brodey was nearly like the Lew Welch of the 2nd generation of New York School poets.
Bob Kaufman
Originator of the dense thought
Made lyrical this solitary
Wanderer of Brain St.
Succumbed to infinity
By bleak choice
Nominated in bliss
To rule a purple void
Wanderer of Brain St.
The calm & quiet explosions
Of natural chaos
Calm & exciting mentor
Of evangelical stroll
He the parent of his own body
Flesh of silence grilled
In an honesty only humans ignore
-JB
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