“Some writers confuse authenticity, which they ought always to aim at, with originality, which they should never bother about.”
—W. H. Auden
Welcome to the third installment of these “hydrogen jukebox” poems, hot on the heels of Eyeball Kick and Retina Splash. I don’t believe you’ll find any overriding theme here that’s any different from the previous two collections, but if you do, please tell me about it. More quiddities, more whatnots, more highs and lows, more heres and theres, outs and abouts, shouts and echoes, whispers and dreams, more touches of daily living combined with the peculiarities of whatever a hydrogen jukebox is. Even Allen Ginsberg didn’t know.
Michael Dylan Welch