The fumes of crowded Greyhound buses, a Floridian coast visited by Father Time, a woman with a penchant for birds and elevators—what is the substance of humility?
Written in three sections, Starving Romantic explores themes of loss, family, home, and love through a hyperreal lyricism. The backdrops are often the forgotten Midwest, the sprawling landscapes of Detroit, and the anonymous house, complete with porch and backyard.
Starving Romantic lives in chaos, between its own conflicted nature. A celebration of turbulence, romance, and youth and the lingering pain that it brings with it.
A reflective collection, filled with roadside longings and everydaydreams. Nostalgia that informs a moment, inflating its vividness. The mood of displacement is common, restless melancholy. The way perception amplifies when contradictory elements cohere. It’s hard to sum up poetry collections.
This is good stuff, whatever your definition of good is.
"Starving Romantic" picked me up and dropped me into the very distinct memory and nostalgia of being an early 20-something feeling hungry/tired/lustful/overwhelmed/disengaged/scared/angry/hopeful/yearning. I like being transported.
Vincent James Perrone writes intimacies, of the body, sure, but also of place. These poems trace a line of the sensuous, and provocatively question how close you can be to any one or anything. What Perrone does best is his holy specificity, where that closeness is thick with “salt and oranges” and “crushed decibels.” Time plays games here, stretched and sinewed through objects and relation; you’ll leave this book somewhere different from where you found it.