Publisher's Synopsis
Eyelid Lick is borne out of individual psychedelic experience into a world of streaming communication. These loose, runny poems seek intimacy through testimonial. There's the sensation of the lick, and the sensation of being licked, and if both people know each other enough both sides of the lick can be felt.
Assam,
Not hate, not no capability to find them cute, or charming, or things. Because there's going to be a baby in the backyard. And because the lambs hang low in the trees.
I am so not fucking around. Like a name strangling its body, I'll forget it, too. I'll say one thing, and then completely forget it. I'll remind you of something known to everyone: We could have gotten away with so much more.
Donald Dunbar lives in Portland, Oregon, where he co-curates the reading series If Not For Kidnap and teaches poetry to future chefs at Oregon Culinary Institute.
