Out NOW From gnashing teeth publishing...
the newest work by PW Covington. In this intimate work, Covington explores places, people, and even himself, as he ventures across the American landscape. Written in the Beat tradition, this book will be shared and read by the next generation, and the one after. Come inside the mind of PW as he celebrates the death of the straight, white malepoet.
Praise for malepoet
As a fellow restless soul and troubadour traveler, I love the moments here when Covington almost gives the road a good name, lets us sit with it for a minute, and then, delicately destroys its reputation again. It’s that strange life of the hopeless wanderer he describes as “still looking for a home to leave.” It’s truck stops, “Condom machines and gasoline.” It’s honest, thoughtful, sometimes tender, often tough, this is a testament to a life “Mixed with gin and dreams / Little poetry magazines.”
~ Nathan Brown, Former Poet Laureate of Oklahoma, Winner of the Oklahoma Book Award
Some read to escape truths.
Others do so to embrace them.
The mad call of the wild in these poems written by PW Covington serves surrealistically to fulfill both desires and more.
~ Tom Maxedon, Radio host and producer of “Word” a Phoenix-based literary arts podcast
“Only the truly great poets ever die”-so the “Death of the Straight, White Malepoet” is a birth – a wonder, truth and surprise. Born off road via Burroughs, Bukowski, Kerouac and Chuck Taylor. At truck stops, diners, “Hotel bars and Black Town Cars”, drinking bourbon, red sugar water, smoking, stoned, cigarettes and lust never quenched, close to the flesh of strangers, sailors, the suck and the score. Airports, Borders, bodies and Bodies await your witnessing Enlightenments. God and Night and Sex are one. Welcome to the New Bible of Pilgrim PW Covington.
~ Thom Woodruff, State of Texas Beat Poet Laureate
I decided to read your poetry when I travel or after a few drinks. Definitely to take in the essence of the words you laid down on this motherfu**ing Malgun Gothic font. I really dig how you pay homage to place, to moments, to people you blend with. The no fu**s given about sexuality and religion and pain and loss and love and making sure everyone out there is sitting down if they plan to hit that good sativa while (butt) plugged. Living on the road through your beat eyes. My God, Zero Tolerance, and When She Kissed Me are three of my favorites, but are not the best poems in the collection, if that makes sense. I’m weird like that, I love those but recognize others to be deeper and craftier, but that’s just me. “Score” you crazy bastard! Is “The Death of the Straight, White, Malepoet”-the unmasking, if you will? I love that I could read so much in your poems, you’re more than a traveling poet who smokes, drinks and writes about blow jobs and motels. There’s a blooming flowers and sand dunes, sunsets and desert mountains, I see things in your poems that are unwritten but exist, that’s why poetry exists and is necessary. Because of writers like you, honest and fearless.
Your homie from the Valley,
~ Edward Vidaurre, Editor-in-Chief/Publisher of FlowerSong Press, 2018-2019 City of McAllen Poet Laureate
buy your copy
Meet PW Covington
PW Covington has spent decades crisscrossing the American continent, collecting and sharing poetry.
Both his poetry and short fiction have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and he has been invited to perform from The Beat Museum in San Francisco to the Havana International Poetry Festival in Cuba.
A service-connected disabled veteran and convicted felon, Covington’s work stems from lived experience and an understanding of the Universal natures of sin and struggle, across cultural and geographic frontiers. Find his message in jail cells, down alleys, in smoke-filled back rooms, and out on the highway…always the highway.
Covington has published a novel, edited Indie literary journals, and collaborated with other writers and artists on a variety of socially engaged projects. This is his 5th collection of poetry.
Find and follow him on social media for updates about readings, performances, and current projects.
“When she fucked me
(And, damn, did she fuck me)
It felt like drunk galaxies
Dancing to greasy jazz
In a Jackson, Mississippi juke joint”
from When She Kissed Me
Listen to PW and other poets on KJZZ.