Overview

Tramp. Poems like cockleburs caught in old woolen socks after long days of wandering. Poems hard and spare as seeds, with little crannies and hooks that might catch in a reader's mind and be carried away. Lost fathers, strong mothers, beautiful daughters, loving wives. Hawks and gophers. Something thrumming in the world, through tree and granite, some pulse that can't be stilled. Wounded students, wounded teachers. These are poems of a scrappy survivor, a hearty mutt, wary of making much noise, explaining nothing, offering no program or compelling vision, at rest, at home.

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Brad Shurmantine grew up and attended college in Missouri. After a brief sojourn in Italy he transplanted himself to San Francisco, and has lived in the Bay Area ever since. For thirty-six years he was a high school English teacher and administrator, and labored futilely to reform public education. He is a black belt in Aikido, an ardent backpacker, and a very amateur beekeeper. In retirement he spends his time writing, reading, napping, watching the Warriors, growing expensive vegetables from nursery six-packs, and serving seven chickens, two adorable cats, and two annually collapsing bee hives. His fiction and personal essays have appeared in Mud Season Review, Loch Raven Review, and Catamaran; his poetry in Third Wednesday, Delta Poetry Review, and Blue Lake Review. He hikes in the Sierras, travels abroad when he can, and prefers George Eliot (who he didn't discover until he was 60) to Charles Dickens, or almost anyone.

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