I can’t wait to get my hands on a copy of this new book from Terry Gresham, the quirkiest poet I know! And that’s saying a lot because I know plenty of quirky poets. But, absolutely none to match Terry Gresham. When I find out how to get a copy, I will let you know. You won’t be sorry! – Dorothy Alexander, author of The Art of Digression: a fragmented memoir.
If you have not purchased a copy of Terry Gresham‘s _Dark Sandwiches_, you should. The collection of poems is quirky, insightful, funny, and in its own way, profound.
I found two items (which I altered only slightly) that reflect (to me ) the spirit of the work.
The Darkness of the Sandwich (from chapter 43 of Moby Sandwich)
Aside from those more obvious considerations touching the sandwich, which could not but occasionally awaken in any man’s soul some alarm, there was another thought, or rather vague, nameless horror concerning it, which at times by its intensity completely overpowered all the rest; and yet so mystical and well-nigh ineffable was it, that I almost despair of putting it in a comprehensible form. It was the darkness of the sandwich that above all things appalled me. But how can I hope to explain myself here; and yet, in some dim, random way, explain myself I must, else all these chapters might be naught.
The Sandwichness of the Dark
a court in Boston, Massachusetts ruled that “sandwich” includes at least two slices of bread. and “under this definition, this court finds that the term ‘sandwich’ is not commonly understood to include burritos, tacos, and quesadillas, which are typically made with a single tortilla and stuffed with a choice filling of meat, rice, and beans.–Sam Mcmicheal