“Micheline sees beauty. Loves life. Testifies to the fallen world made pure through the eyes of a child, eyes of a poet, the vision of a man with the courage to love this modern mess and fill life with song.” — Bruce Isaacson
The stories about Jack Micheline are legion and they range all the way from fact to tall tale and anecdote. Jack Micheline was arrested on this corner, Jack Micheline was staggering drunk down that side of the street, Jack Micheline wrote a poem and gave it to Bob Kaufman right in front of that coffee house over there. Jack Micheline was everyman and Jack Micheline was no one. Jack Micheline was always on the hustle for a poem but Jack Micheline was incapable or simply refused to hustle himself to the mainstream publishers the way that Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, or William S. Burroughs did. That’s very possibly one of the reasons that Micheline’s work appeared in the small press for most of his life. That’s probably why his work remains uncollected in book form to this day, long after his death. Which is unfortunate simply because Jack Micheline was a major poet writing for limited print runs. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Please read the complete Todd Moore essay here…

ISBN: 0-929730-44-8 | Copyright 1993
€ 20.00
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