Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to...


Two books from Mario Susko




Mario Susko writes with the strength of an army in his pen. His words describe the tragedies of war and the persistence of human idiosyncracies even in the face of chaos.... Seek, find and buy this man's work; you will be changed.

                                                          - Sean Lindsay



Aside from their relevance to social and political questions, [Susko's] poems are finely crafted pieces of linguistic workmanship and artistry. They are not light reading; they are important reading. No lover of poetry will be disappointed.

                                                           - David Rogers



The unusual combination of poetic prerogatives and erudition, on the one hand, and the document and the existential weight, on the other, gives us a work of extraordinary experience and remarkable quality.

                                                           - Tonko Maroevic



One of the most humane voices out of the 21st Century, Mario Susko's distinctive humility and stock wit conspire as survivors to form a reprieve from a dragged-down humanity that.... is the unexpected gift of daybreak.... where explosions and interrogations disappear in this crack of forgiveness.


                                                            - Peter Money




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there i was trading words for life

          hoping they’d live beyond themselves

i had seen the truth but never claimed

          to be the one to have touched it


death was sleeping in my bed

          pretending it kept it warm for me

while i lay frozen on the table

          with a piece of lead in my forehead


there were flat shapes there words

          could not negotiate fault lines

i thought would some day close and heal

          as if the senses had never fractured


was that the point where i was let go

          to stumble spectrally through a tunnel

into the exploding frameless light

          unaware darkness also left me blind


whatever the visionless roads that brought

          me to this stage that is my fate

words imprinted on the skin now

          lesions on the membrane of memory


and if this is what i have to be to know

          what i was not to be the only thing

left to tell Shakespeare is i have lost

          my mind trying to save my head



To purchase this perfect-bound book click HERE

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