<DIV><p>"After so much contemporary writing that seems all flash, no mind and no heart, these poems show how close observation of the world and a gift for plain-spoken, but eloquent speech, can give to poetry both dignity and largeness of purpose."?Tom Sleigh</p><p>In Jamaal May's debut collection, the human body is machine, manufactured in the motor city, alive with the urban sounds and beats. Poems buzz and purr like well-oiled chassis. Grit and trial and song thrum through each line. Tight syntax, finely tuned internal rhyme, and punchy consonants percuss each poem's beat like an unfailing 808 drum.</p><p><B>From "Mechanophobia: Fear of Machines":</B></p><p><I>There is no work left for the husks.<BR>Automated welders like us,<BR>your line replacements, can't expect<BR>sympathy after our bright<BR>arms of cable rust over. So come</I></p><p><I>collect us for scrap, grind us up<BR>in the mouth of one of us.<BR>Let your hand pry at the access<BR>panel with the edge of a knife,<BR>silencing the motor and thrum.</I></p><BR><p><B>Jamaal May</B> was raised by two auto workers in Detroit, Michigan, where he eventually taught poetry in public schools. After making a living as a self-taught poet and musician, Jamaal went on to publish two chapbooks, earn an MFA from Warren Wilson, and be featured in <I>Callaloo</I>, <I>Indiana Review</I>, <I>Blackbird</I>, and <I>Michigan Quarterly Review</I>, among other journals, films, and broadcasts. He's the recipient of fellowships from Cave Canem, Callaloo, and Bucknell University, where he was named the 2011?2013 Stadler Fellow.</p></DIV>