my lungs are a divebar

<p>Dr. Walter Moore (BA MFA Ph.D.)—lauded bard who teaches in the School of Writing Literature and Film at Oregon State University—presents this <em>dive bar</em> book of guttural knowledge. Set in rural Indiana and urban Washington (some Texas too) these are “tween” poems for the <em>everyperson</em>. Poems that celebrate the all-but-forgotten <em>beautifuls</em> . . . an awards ceremony that offers saint statues to degenerates.</p><p> </p><p>Some words:</p><p> </p><p>“Walter Moore’s poems are a hell of a ride down a hard highway. Read this book.” —<strong>Jesse Donaldson</strong></p><p> </p><p>“Hilarious painful and outrageous - often in the same phrase. Drawing from overheard fist fights willfully eschewed observations and half-a-lifetime of wrong turns turned right Walter Moore crafts nail-sharp poems and prose explosions with a kind of screaming laughing brilliance that is not be missed. These pages will slap your eyes until everything you see shines.” —<strong>Owen Egerton</strong></p><p> </p><p>“Here is an honest underworld of poverty booze smoke fighting loving debt work and redemptive friendship. The players are self-deprecating and cocky punkish and tender absurd and sincere as they make fun of and try to hang on to their troubled America. Walter Moore is a terrific poet whose voice is soaked in the millennial experiences of music film media and seeing through bullshit.” —<strong>Henry Hughes</strong></p><p> </p>