A new collection from an audacious, humorous poet celebrated for his
sky-blue originality of utterance (Dwight Garner, The New York
Times)
Michael Robbins's first two books of poetry were raucous protests lodged
from the frontage roads and big-box stores of off-ramp America. With
Walkman, he turns a corner. These new poems confront self-pity and
nostalgia in witty-miserable defiance of our political and ecological
moment. It's the end of the world, and Robbins has listened to all the
tapes in his backpack. So he's making music from whatever junk he finds
lying around.