As a second-wave veteran of the form, Charles Rafferty has emerged as one of America's greatest living prose poets. Rafferty's new collection, The Appendectomy Grin, is a model of the sort of bemused, domestic poeticism (or is it pessimism?) that only a master prose poet can deliver. Compact in size, but massive in scope, these poems explore the death of self, country, and planet, while remaining grounded in humor and the miracles of everyday life. In a world that is changing faster than ever, The Appendectomy Grin is a deep breath, a meditation, a rhythmic tickle fight, a slightly off-kilter manual on how to remain present and lucid in a world that seems intent on destroying itself. The result is an argument you cannot disbelieve by a poet leaving his unique scuffmarks on the linoleum kitchen floor of the world. Does the executioner have a rationale for the order of our beheadings? Ask Charles Rafferty. The answer is in the book.
