Poetry. After a subtly disturbing, two-month illness of fatigue, depression, creepy psychological states, psychotic rage, and tickles of low-gradenausea, I woke up the morning after Thanksgiving, 2013, with an itchy chest and abdomen. My immediate, pre-conscious reaction: liver is hurt, dead in six months. It was impossible. There couldn't be anything wrong with my liver. Not after a lifetime shunning alcohol, drugs, and for the last few years, even sugar and white bread. My only transgression was the Paxil and ZyprexaI'd taken at low doses for thirteen years during which my psychiatrist never once ordered or even suggested blood tests to check liver function.
"Thank you for your book—for having written it and having lived it. It is so courageous. I do not have enough words to describe the impression it left on me. It is viscerally piercing and vulnerable. The book is beautiful, painful, harrowing, lacerating, ravishing, and unbelievable."—Patrick Lawler
Rob Cook lives in New York City's East Village. He is the author of six collections, including THE CHARNEL HOUSE ON JOYCE KILMER AVENUE (Rain Mountain Press, 2018), ASKING MY LIVER FOR FORGIVENESS (Rain Mountain Press, 2015), Undermining of the Democratic Club (Spuyten Duyvil, 2014), Blueprints for a Genocide (Spuyten Duyvil, 2012) and EMPIRE IN THE SHAPE OF A GRASS BLADE (Bitter Oleander Press, 2013). His recently re-released Last Window in the Punk Hotel was a Julie Suk Award finalist. Work has appeared in Asheville Poetry Review, Caliban, Fence, A cappella Zoo, Zoland Poetry, Tampa Review, Minnesota Review, Aufgabe, Caketrain, Many Mountains Moving, Hampden- Sydney Poetry Review, Harvard Review, Colorado Review, BOMB, Sugar House Review, Mudfish, Pleiades, Versal, Weave, Wisconsin Review, Ur Vox, Heavy Feather Review, Phantom Drift, Osiris, etc.
Author City: NEW YORK, NY USA