BRYAN COFFELT ON MIKE YOUNG: "Mike Young's poetry is heavily rooted in zoroastro-colonialism and sanguine video adapters. The comic enjambment in his poems stems from a love of knives. In "Make It Rain," Young utilizes comic enjambment to load the reader with possibility.
Yeah im in this business of terror
Got a handful of stacks better
grab an umbrella.
Mike Young's poetry offers readers a whiff of Wordsworth and his involvement with the feminist slam poetry scene is widely praised. Well known poetry critic Brett Favre said of Young's poetry, "Makes me wanna do jumping jacks." Young's poetry has been translated into more than 2 languages, including American Sign Language and English."
MIKE YOUNG ON BRYAN COFFELT: "Coffelt was born in Hailey, Idaho Territory, to Homer Loomis and Isabel Weston Treacle Tits. As a young drag racer, he often replaced local tourist attractions with large graphite asterisks. He earned a BA in Hammerhead Skullfucking from the University of I Think Wait No Let Me Call My Mom, but found the local art scene "orange." So he worked for seventeen years as a day laborer, mostly in the fields of soothsaying, fire extinguisher mending, and Mussolini's fascist regime. During these years he learned the violin skills that he'd later leave in the sink without washing at all. When Coffelt's uncle, Hugh Selwyn Mauberley Coffelt, died of a self-inflicted helicopter wound, Coffelt inherited the family catgut factory. Coffelt sold the factory to the third Olsen twin and entered the MFA program deep inside Alan Greenspan's gall bladder. Like the many famous graduates of that program, Coffelt spun homegrown buckwheat conjugal poems for the back of racist cereal boxes, which he called "the Ideogrammic Method." To pay the bills, Coffelt translated popular "no hands" toilets. In Greenspan, Coffelt befriended Ashton Kushner (author of YAKS ARE FOOD IF YOU'RE TALL ENOUGH and world-renowned authority on "cunt marmalade"). Kushner later remarked "I was never able to teach him to throw a left hook." Kusher later confabulated. Kushner later unsabered. After Greenspan, Coffelt moved to Nashville, where conditions in the local
ménage à trois ranches inspired him to quit his job as a shinguard and write his epic YINZER SHAKE RIB AQUALUNG DOROTHY JINGLE HAMFISTED DECIPHER PLEA AVARICE MOTZ ET SONS ARMONIA CONUTERFEIT FUCK YOU FRANCOIS VILLION FUCK YOU FRANCOIS VILLON IN YOUR JOY NUB, which translated into Canadian as TED KOOSER. With TED KOOSER, Coffelt had a massive hit on his hands,
on his hands, a duck-shaped and gooey pustule. Unfortunately, Coffelt squandered his cut of the movie rights pursuing his only love up a broken escalator. After tossing off the hackneyed and (critics agree) "Jew-savvy" sequel, TED KOOSER ESCAPES FROM WHITE CASTLE, Coffelt entered a seven year seclusion of radar prayer and dandelion farming. He returned to briefly host the game show version of Peak Oil, but one day fled the set in a fit of rage, spewing instructions on how to parallel park without "invoking Hiroshima." His hotel room was found empty save for an oven full of checkbooks, a water heater full of nuns, and a shower full of emails from one "Dorothy Shakespear." To this day, Coffelt's whereabouts remain a mystery: some say he teaches competitive panic induction at the University of Slut Get Out of There That's Not For Sluts. Others say he's taken on the identity of one Agnes Burford and regularly composes violin arrangements of Dante's sestinas for Dunkin Donut radio commercials. One truth swims up: the brilliance of TED KOOSER and the piebald elasticity of the kinkfest behind it. Long will serious art fans remember TED KOOSER for its anklebiting heat, its instructions regarding human bones, and the sheer inability of us to even read it unless we're hiding in the cake."
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