Teeth Marks is a collection of poems that spring from the examined life of the seeker, bow to the mystery of human relationship and flirt with the fierceness and reverence of Mother Nature. These poems are expressions of the dance between shadow and light, masculine and feminine, the predator and the prey, the serious and silly within us and around us.
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Despite Andy Warhol’s famous quip that “Art is what you can get away with,” the things that get passed off in the name of creative expression astound me. Teeth Marks, by author Steven McCord, is collection of trite and amateurish scribbling passed off as poetry.
The poems themselves are bland and lack the seasoning that either a mature, inspired (or, for that matter, healthy) mind might produce. That it is self-published should be a red flag for anyone looking to avoid paltry and hackneyed writing.
Teeth Marks is, instead, full of unresolved adolescent angst masquerading as poetry. Rubbish that rhymes is not poetry and anger at one’s parents isn’t art. It’s fodder for a psychoanalysis session (highly recommended to the author, where the free-association as stream of consciousness type prose might serve him better).
Someone made a serious mistake in telling the author that this refuse should be published. And, that someone should pay - not us - neither figuratively nor literally. Teeth Marks is a book to be avoided.