There’s something special about Justin Hyde. Maybe it comes from his late entry into the world of poetry, but I hesitate to give you all that extra biographical bullshit on who Mr. Hyde is. His poems offer enough, even if half the things in them aren’t true. I can’t tell if they are or not. I’m naïve and tend to believe most things I read. After reading Down Where the Hummingbird Goes to Die I have this idea of Justin Hyde as some social worker who has been known to drift around, fucking around with small drugs, but mostly likes to drink and think occasionally about cheating on his wife. I’m probably wrong, but I do feel like each of his poems is meant to be a little snippet of his life.

In a way I kind of wish I had discovered Justin Hyde ten years later than I did. By then I imagine he’ll have a couple more books. It would have been nice to finish this book and move on to some others, but I’m stuck waiting like everyone else for the next one. I guess this is a good thing though.

Note: Justin Hyde has contributed to Thieves Jargon numerous times.