by John C. Goodman
available from Blue & Yellow Dog Press $12.00 (US)
Read an excerpt at ditch, - click here
John C. Goodman navigates us though the real, the subconscious and the abstract like a seasoned ship’s Captain...pushing us overboard (“there always seems to be a further place to fall”) then fishing us back up (“in a baptism of beginning”) to continue on this disturbing yet enlightening voyage toward the “wreckage of the future”.
- Frances Ward, editor of HammeredOut and Asphalt Tree Press
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Too many poetry collections fail to deliver on the promise of thematic cohesion, but John Goodman's "Naked Beauty" is a coherent sequence of poems that look every bit as beautiful as they sound. For Goodman, it seems the world of consciousness is far too small, too myopic a poetic lens; instead, he turns his lines on the pivot of experience, both in the broad and highly personal sense.
- Dr. Kane X. Faucher, Assistant Professor - Media, Information and Technoculture (MIT), Faculty of Information and Media Studies, The University of Western Ontario. Associate Editor: The Semiotic Review of Books, The Poster: Journal of Visual Rhetoric in the Public Sphere, Semiophagy: Journal of Pataphysics and Existential Semiotics, Co-Editor-in-Chief, Autopsia
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John C. Goodman finds his poems in the quotidian objects, people and experiences of modern life. His poems capture the oscillating perspective of the poet's shifting italicized "I" - the transient flux of the experienced poet's identity - in which his "stream of experience" finds the extraordinary in the mundane, music amid the white noise of traffic, and beauty in the modern urban metropolis.
- Mark McCawley, Fresh Raw Cuts, Urban Graffiti, Greensleeve Editions
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In John C. Goodman's oscillating, never still anti-tableau of shifting visions "horizons unfold/like paper birds." Constantly observant among glints of experience and language inserted into and evolving out of the italicized "I" of these poems, it seems the transient focus of "naked beauty" exists in flux (what the poet himself calls "stream of experience") even as life proceeds on a ravishing scale "looking under postage stamps." Anywhere word glitters against word, image against image, each apt metaphor more penultimate than the last. We experience the moment and move on, dazzled, exhilarated, perpetually standing at the threshold of a glad new existence. Goodman is surpassed by none when it comes to epiphanic indulgences. He succors the pathos of the "I" of the self accusatory, the joke of the self deprecating, as though life (much like these poems) was painted in swift impasto and never forgotten.
- Raymond Farr, author of ECSTATIC/.of facts (Otoliths)