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'Colin Herd's 'too ok' is a treasure trove of razzle-dazzle stylings, superfine wit, charismatic discretion, and a vacuuming tenderness. Herd's gift for words is exquisite and adventurous and armed to the teeth, and these poems are its perfect measurements.'


Dennis Cooper


‘Colin Herd is invincible in lemon, wants to be famous in two years—à la Charles Henri Ford—and his dad dresses like Roland Barthes.  He’s not scared to introduce Simple Minds to Schopenhauer, nod to Oulipian lists, or throw in ‘old .at’ puns with real ones:  ‘4 Lorne Street.’  That’s not a joke.  Colin’s words, not mine (the poems are so engaging, and rooted in the poet’s life, that you feel able to use his forename).  This playful first collection is a faux-real wide-eyed stare at the normal and the uncanny in everyday life. Herd evokes Brautigan when he writes ‘crumple this.’  Don’t.  At least, read it first.’


nick-e melville, author of selections and dissections (Otoliths 2010)


'These poems sparkle with life, with the life of the everyday, fleeting moments of work, play and imagining. All the little oddments of language that end up in the glovebox. This is language coursing through the city, sidewalks and cafés and theatres and pubs, through noisy crowds and intimate tête-à-tête's and quiet soliloquys, language suffused with sensory detail and subtle inflection. This is the real thing.'

Bill Lavender, author of Q and Memory Wing.

'How many poets of our time own their universe as Colin Herd owns his? Work so disarming, so true and graceful, and deserving of these moribund superlatives precisely because the poetry is so urbane, personal, and assured. It is an offhand profundity he possesses, and the poems within Glovebox evidence yet again his poignancy, his accuracy and his depth. Encountering this collection I can't help but recall the reason why Ginsberg, Bukowski and O'Hara are responsible for the ruin of an entire generation of aspiring poets. They wrote with an unerring and deceiving simplicity that was all their own, and was every bit as accessible as it was groundbreaking, and thus could not be imitated. So it is with Colin Herd, and we are better for only being able to watch on in admiration.'

S J Fowler, author of Fights, Red Museum and Recipes

'I was in a cab once and needed a map, so I went to open the glovebox, when the cabbie's arm shot out and slammed it shut! Colin Herd's 'glovebox' is kind of the opposite of that: reading these poems feels like unravelling an array of impossible silks from some unassuming compartment… the unexpected and deeply pleasing surfaces of these poems are both rough and smooth, awkward and tender, weightless and bright, and never blatant, never chintzy: although 'the cloth will not obediently spread', and is unpredictable and bunchy, it's also 'finer than a froghair split four ways', feels great on the eyes and hangs just right, in this winning and throwaway style that seemingly just came together without the help of a mirror – but these are throwaway lines you have to snap up and keep. There are designs here made of a special kind of attention and shading. Just looking at them makes me feel bashful and delighted. I do actually wish there was some way I could *wear* Colin Herd's poems.'

Sam Riviere, author of 81 Austerities