Anthony Robinson's Brief Weather & I Guess a Sort of Vision is a lyric graph of the poet's heart moving through the turbulence of the everyday, under the pall & pang of love approaching the rocks, within the blur & blitz of alcohol (not on the rocks -- there's a lot of beer in these poems), from two very different climates (Austin, Texas, & Eugene, Oregon). But fuck all that. Anthony Robinson is a pimp who won't diddle your poesy hole with bad metaphors about guitars. This fucker is sincere.
--Joseph Massey, author of Ron's Panties
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Ah, those were the days, huh?
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