gary goude | jake's dream

JAKE’S DREAM Shit me and Jake we’d hit the clock at 6:AM Jake pulled the handle of three 30 year old Cumming’s drill presses and I’d set up the Gleasons making gears for the machines that kept Brandon 26 year Continue reading gary goude | jake's dream

todd moore | gary goude and that crushed rotting dawg


significant poet is surrounded by a cluster of unyieldingly savage images which define both him and the age. Gary Goude is a compelling example. When I wrote the introduction to his first chapbook, A CRUSHED ROTTING DOG published by Fine Human Wreckage Press back in 1995, I was drawn to both the honesty and the violence of his work. The cover of DOG reveals a snapshot of Goude drinking from what looks like a bottle of vodka or possibly gin. He’s sitting on a white bench in front of a house window which sports the sign, Beware of Dog. Continue reading todd moore | gary goude and that crushed rotting dawg

the shop

Continue reading the shop