"Tohm is a punk rock poet in every sense. His poems do not hide behind any veil, they are open and honest, raw, and real"
Not my words, the words of a review of this book that I stole off Amazon. Because fuck Amazon. But also, because they're a perfect description of Tohm and his poetry. And also, fuck Amazon. No Destination, published last year by Kung Fu Treachery Press, is a collection of Tohm's work gathered from several long since sold out chapbooks, plus a generous selection of new poems thrown in for good measure.
Full disclosure: one of the aforementioned chapbooks was a split with myself, and Tohm is a buddy of mine, so you can take this review with a big fucking pinch of salt, if you want to. However, that doesn't mean that anything that I say in this review is untrue. I would never blow smoke up anyone's ass, and I would never write a BS review just because a book is by a friend. If I didn't like it, I wouldn't review it (to every writer friend whose books I have not yet reviewed, who are now wondering whether or not I liked your book, you'll just have to wait and see).
Tohm is very critical of his own work, and took this opportunity to re-work some of the older poems that appear in the book. I have been reading Tohm's work for a number of years, and own many of the chapbooks that were featured in No Destination, but reading them all again in quick succession, you can really see the progression. He grows, not only as a poet, but as a man, before your very eyes. Tohm's greatest skill is being able to balance the morose, me against the world, sadness with wit and humour. It is a balancing act that not many poets manage to pull off. But don't take my word for it, buy the damn book.
eight years of filth
cleaning
eight years of
filth from the car floor,
dashboard, windows,
and rearview mirror
with cleaning wipes
that indicate:
'no residue or crud left behind'
