The angels among us are up to no good. If you want a guardian, they say, go to court or call an escort service. We’re here to make things hot for you now that we’ve finally gotten free of the Old Man. And hot for ourselves, too, welcoming our human appetites and passions or just thinking for ourselves for the first time in an eternity. Thinking was outlawed up there, you know. Most things were, except playing the harp, which can be so boring. Now we’re after that nicely marbled steak you were planning to eat, after those very chilled martinis, too, and of course following your trysts with lovers of whatever persuasion. In fact, we’re hungry for everything we’ve never had; make way or we’ll kick your sorry asses with our absolutely beautiful feet.
The Moment’s Equation by Vern Rutsala was a finalist for the National Book Award. Other recent books include How We Spent Our Time, which received the Akron Poetry Prize, and A Handbook for Writers: New and Selected Prose Poems. Several chapbooks, including Ghost World and Like a Chaos Just For Me, were also published by the Feral Press. Recent work has appeared in The Paris Review, The American Poetry Review, North American Review, Tar River Poetry, and Northwest Poetry. (updated 1/2011)