Tom Crawford’s translucent poetry shimmers with gratitude for life that only someone who has come through deep sorrow can feel, and approaches the uncanny wisdom of the twice-born. He is one of my favorite poets
Because Tom is a poet, Tom’s is a poetry that affirms the right to exist, and the existence, and the beauty of the existence, of things too essential and simple to sell. Prayer. Creeks too small to fish. Wild birds. Insects. An aged but beloved goat. An inherited pair of socks. (The blue ones.) The salmon’s annual imitation of Christ. Snow. We’re a decade too deep, Tom and our writing and I, into mutual help, love, struggle and affection for me to rare back and blurb this book proper. “Buy what you need — which may not be what you want.” That’s the only kind of sales pitch I can imagine Tom making. Me, I need Tom.
—David Duncan, author of THE RIVER WHY and BROTHERS K