Cosgrove has a long history of being successful at
life. She’s taken home the first place ribbon at the Georgia State Fair Chili
Cook Off, TWICE, and is currently the reigning Champion of the Women’s
Southeast Division Mud Wrestling Association. This is her first book of
Release the Hounds by Misty Cosgrove
“Cormac McCarthy once opined that he wrote
few women characters because he did not understand them. Misty Cosgrove’s poetry provides the voices
that McCarthy’s novels lack, while providing a similar aesthetic. Each poem has a great sense of time and
place, but still manages to tap into the universal. Misty provides us with a litany of
grotesqueries and casual atrocities, but never fails to provide some hope
scraped from the bottom of the barrel. I
can think of no one better suited to provide empathy for both martyrs and
monsters, and isn’t that what literature is for?”
McCrea, author of Wisdom & Dust
ISBN978-0-9892018-8-9 92 pages $14.95 5.5"x8.5" perfect bound, paper
I pitched enough fits to win a seat in the Buick and go along for the ride into town.
I waited inside a dual exhaust steel cage while my brother and Daddy rubbed elbows with the elite members of the (We have a penis and you don’t) club.
Killing time consisted of sniffing empty packs of smokes while holding a Phillips Head screwdriver between my legs and imagining my conversation with Floyd.
“Afternoon Floyd, I’m just needing a trim.”
“Sorry baby girl, you have to have a penis to be in here with us.”
“What the Hell do you call this?” *shaking the Phillips Head up and down Between my legs.*
“Oh, my apologies. Please, come sit in chair number three, right between your father and brother. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
Before I could imagine my new haircut my Daddy opened the car door and hollered at me to hop in the back and let my brother ride up front.
“In Misty Cosgrove's writing – as within
our dreams – no figure or fragment is incidental or without meaning.
Consequently, entire stories emerge with just a few essential words or
gestures: We glimpse a man’s past and future in a moment of silent chivalry for
a sex doll; we witness a woman’s lifetime of violence through the quiet washing
of a dress on a porch.
Cosgrove stares unflinchingly into the hearts
and bowels of her subjects and records with charm and imagination, though
without false sentiment, everything telling that she observes. There is pain in
the humour and humour in the pain. A woman has laid herself bare for us, laid
her people bare, and in turn she has unveiled a nation. Sugarfoot has invited
us into her America – an America whose death rattle is indistinguishable from