With this book, William Trowbridge shows

himself to be one of our most accomplished

comic poets — able to wield a sardonic, mythic

humor that is the poetic equivalent to the great

paintings of Grant Wood and Thomas Hart Benton.

Enter Dark Stranger is a show, a carnival, a great

state fair of a book that, while entertaining and

delighting us, enlightens as well. William Trowbridge

reminds us of the terribly serious uses to which

comedy can be put, and of the near-limitless possibilities

of the dramatic creation of character. This is a thoroughly

captivating collection of poems — surely one of the very

best to be published this year.

David Citino

. . . stunning first poetry collection. . . . These poems

are howlingly nasty and perfectly executed. . . . Trowbridge's

weapons are a deep puzzlement of feeling and a

wonderful ear; he knows how to divert with jokes while

he's about to attack: 'BLAM BLAM BLAM!'

Jonathan Holden

San Francisco Chronicle

Stark Weather

                       . . . and it seemed as though i could

                       see my heart before my eyes, turning

                       dark black with Hate it Rages, or

                       harhequinade, stripped from that

                    munner life leaving only naked being-Hate.

                       — Charles Starkweather

On the Great Plains in March,

the wind blows for days.

Gutter pipes vibrate, shingles flap;

things begin to come loose.

Once they found old Miss Purdy

wandering at midnight on U.S. 40,

her dainty-laced nightgown billowing

over her spindly, blue-gray thighs.

It rook three deputies to hold her down

till the doctor arrived.

On the Great Plains in March

the dry elm scrapes

at an upstairs window,

dust devils swirl and disperse

across the wide, empty fields,

and a pistol shot sounds

no louder than a screen door

slapping on a porch.

from Enter Dark Stranger

Father and Son Project 220: Model Airplane Building

Plastic ailerons, struts, antennae

sprawl about, fragile as hummingbird bones.

Boldface warns: To avoid damage, tweezers

are required in handling the smaller parts.

We break four pieces in Assemblage A,

squirt an ounce of glue on Instrument Panel,

join Tab C inseparably to Tab N, spill

Tang across a sheet of filigreed decals.

“Grrr,” I say, belching up a taste of meatloaf.

“Grrrr,” he replies, his new incisor bared.

Aroused, I grab a wing, bite through it,

munch thoughtfully. He snaps the tail

in two, then seizes the small gray pilot

and chews off an arm. “Yum,” he grunts.

Coarse fur sprouts from his ears his forehead

as my great black snout probes the wreckage.

Our dog snuffles in, stares, whimpers out

just before the rampage. We chew, bite,

tear, crush the rest to bloody scrap.

He nips at my ear, asking for more;

I snort, cuff him gently across the rug.

Refreshed on frenzy, Papa and Baby sniff

the air, lumber off toward the kitchen.

from Enter Dark Stanger