Daniel Bailey's thrump of a full length poetry debut, The Drunk Sonnets (Magic Helicopter Press, Oktoberfest 2009) is now available for pre-order. Only $10 for a boom boom pow of heart gobbling poetry. And what's more, in an exclusive blog deal, the first 10 people to pre-order get a free Drunk Sonnets beer koozie. That's right, your very own purple Daniel Bailey beer koozie. So when you're passed out in your lawn chair or down your chimney, you can totally reprezent with the nation's new favorite drunk poet.
But don't take my smarmy-carnival-barker word for it! Read the following blurbs from K. Silem Mohammad and Sam Pink, and then read the poem below those:
You hear a lot of people these days calling for more sincerity in poetry. Assholes, mostly. But you know what? I can dig sincerity, when it's really sincerely sincere. And nothing is more sincere than some poor drunk guy with a tortured soul sharing his deepest dysfunctions with you. Daniel Bailey's Drunk Sonnets should win a truth-in-advertising award: these poems contain the kind of full-throated, heartbroken, prosodic yodeling that can come only from a close encounter with a tall bottle, or several of them. You can tell they're straight from the booze-soaked heart, because they're IN ALL CAPS. Is this a viable formal device? Can a poet legitimately achieve new heights of eloquence by slow, self-administered alcohol poisoning? Does crapped-pants inarticulacy ever magically transform itself to unparalleled lyric song? Yes, yes, and hell yesh. It may set a bad example for the kids, but this is poetry that grabs you by the shirt collar, sprays rank 80-proof emotion in your face, and makes you like it. Bottoms up.
—K. Silem Mohammad, author of Breathalyzer (Edge Books 2009) and Best American Poetry alum
This book is the result of an emo kid writing a few words then leaving the room to do something else, then a drunk old man walks in and says "What is this goofy garbage," and he edits a few lines but agrees with others, then he leaves the room and a bored but insightful cat walks in with an electrical helmet on that transcribes its boredom onto the page, then it leaves and a man who has wronged many people and been wronged by many people walks in and tries to write what he feels but just sighs and some tears hit the page and the words blend and begin to like each other and finally a five-year-old version of Daniel Bailey walks in, the Midwest sadness embedded as deeply in him as his Kool-Aid moustache, and he puts his hands over the book and blesses it, right before running outside to see who is waiting to play with him and make up more awesome worlds than the one that currently holds his weight.
—Sam Pink, author of I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT (Paper Hero Press, 2009), THE SELF ESTEEM HOLOCAUST COMES HOME (plays, Six Gallery Press), and FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO (Afterbirth Books)
DRUNK SONNET 28
LET’S HAVE A BABY PLEASE
LET’S HAVE A BABY AND WATCH IT GROW
LET’S VIDEOTAPE THE BABY GROWING
LET’S TIMEWARP THE VIDEO
LET’S WATCH THE BABY GROW AT INTENSE SPEEDS
LET’S WATCH IT GO FROM ZERO TO THREE YEARS IN 30 SECONDS
LET’S TOUCH OUR FACES TOGETHER AND KISS
LET’S UNDERSTAND THE WATER THAT KEEPS US ALIVE
LET’S TELL OURSELVES THAT WE ARE NO MISTAKE
LET’S FALL DOWN INTO A PILE OF DUCK BLANKETS
LET’S HAVE SOME FUN FINALLY AND LOVE SOMETHING
LET’S GET AWESOME TOGETHER AND MAKE LIFE GOOD
LET’S HAVE THIS, ALL OF THIS
LET’S NOT BE SAD OR ALONE ANYMORE PLEASE
PREORDER THE DRUNK SONNETS (COMING OKTOBERFEST 2009) TODAY! FIRST TEN ORDERS GET A FREE BEER KOOZIE!