David Mclean's poetry, by turns lyrical and grotesque,
twists over a desolate landscape inspired by the darker
moments of TS Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and Anne Sexton, and
presided over by the despairing figure of Cadaver.
David McLean writes like he has a bomb ticking away inside his ass.
He is the madman who chooses his words with razor sharp awareness
and precision while snarling at the Grim Reaper, “Stop nicking the
door with that goddamn scythe! Bugger off! I’ve got some lines to get down.”
McLean gives a hearty bloody surprise to the yawning universe...poems that rattle
the bars of the cage, pulse with orgiastic bliss and piss truth down like
rain on the scorched veldt wasteland that passes for civilization in 2008.
- Misti Rainwater-Lites, author of Sirens
These poems are a reminder of the Reaper's omnipotence, of his dark mass skulking around corners,
waiting, not about to be blind-sided by death's fakers, life's losers.
- Rachel Kendall (read full review here)
Read a sample poem: "at the grave of Polynices"
David McLean’s poems have been published in two chapbooks and over a
hundred publications. This is his first full length collection.
ISBN 978-0-9800375-3-1 $12 US