Hot Popsicles by Charles Harper Webb

I finished this today at Kean.

It was a book of Prose Poems that I picked up at the UCLA Festival of Books a few years back.

Webb teaches at CSULB or something else very close.

The poems were “I woke up from a dream (and there were parens)” type pieces, rants against some suburban plight, or else general musing on life–not really my cup of tea. The book did end stronger then it started, but in general I am not glad that I read it–it took me a long time to actually finish mostly because I was not interested.

The worm that crawls from the well through the earth to Tibet to learn his true name is likely my favorite poem, and fairly representative of the book.