Fire Sale

D. G. (Greg) Geis wades deep into the quotidian, but it’s not your everyday quotidian. He digs into those parts of our daily deeds and damage that other poets might think beneath their notice. Nothing, in fact, is beneath the notice of this cultural Inspector Hound: wry, witty, endlessly curious, and always entertaining in the way good humor is something you get now, something that gets you later. Slightly wicked, always irreverent, yet steeped in the honest working clothes of the social anthropologist, Geis finds stuff, and he lets you know about it. It’s bad-boy philosophy: part Blaise Pascal, zest of Slavoj Zizek, and a smattering of Mallarmé, and there you have Geis on the half-shell. Yet every poem has a chewy Platonic something at its center. In other words, this is the book of poetry you hide from the company, but keep on your night table, where you can find it fast in the small hours, when you need it most.