“Todd Cirillo’s, Burning the Evidence, leaves your heart like “hail shattered windshields”. It is broken and beautiful, cynical with a hint of hope and a twist of absurdism, ugly but true. The poems hit you like a .357 Magnum. Some ask questions that others seem to answer. While some poems are almost too honest to bare. One page Todd is “just checking to make sure she’s still there and a few pages down he’s sleeping alone to the sound of tires on wet pavement and the clock”. This glorious, fragmented storyline is so perfectly threaded in highs and lows, heartaches and breaks, goodbyes and come-ons, your head will twist.”
—Madeline Levy, PERFUME & CIGARETTES
You can order Burning the Evidence and get your head twisted at:
Two greats duking it out above the bar.
“If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods. And the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.” –Bukowski
Yes indeed, the true sign of a great bar. Nailed up for your poetic inspiration. Sit underneath these champions for about 3 hours swigging happy hour swill and tell me you don’t feel like writing a few lines on the old cocktail napkin and then rack up a couple mighty sins to end the evening. Few people recognize the signs but luckily I am not one of them. I see them shining neon loud and clear. Many poets and writers have various ways and rituals to get in the mood, some more fun than others. Personally, I believe the poetic punch is the finest way. That haymaker which comes out of nowhere and knocks your dick in the dirt and from the floor you look up at the beautiful stars spinning around and around and the only necessary next movements are to order another round, get out your notebook and pen and put the words down that have been handed to you.
Todd, Erin Rose bar, New Orleans, LA