Issue 14 of Hobo Camp Review is up, and I am vastly honored that two of my poems start off the selection of great poetry. This is a special moment for Editor James H Duncan, the theme being Texas, which has deep meaning for him. The lavish interview with Michael Casares (of Carcinogenic Poetry fame) immediately brings this out.
If you haven’t heard of HCR, you are in for a great treat. Duncan has set up a dusty ambience, one that conjures images of trailside poets and homeless bards who live for nothing but a campfire, good company, and the passion of their songs and stories. He has done it just right. The journal has archetypal appeal, somehow connects with a deep need to share while at the same time acknowledging the peregrine loneliness that is inevitable, a harsh yet evocative aspect of life.
The crux of Duncan’s brilliant delineation is this: even those of us with relatively stable homes are truly hobos; and we want to be able to sit down, weary, and just let it all come out with fellow wanderers. HCR not only allows but encourages this. How rare. Hard to find among the snarled zillions of railroad tracks on the internet.
I was driven to submit to this journal after reading Duncan’s own poetry in issue #20 of Gutter Eloquence:
When an editor writes this well, we should be especially grateful that she (or he in this case) expends any energy deliberating over submissions, which can be quite draining go assess. I suppose the most magical hobo, the one we all want to saw the fiddle with, not only spins tales but listens to others with relish. Duncan does this, setting a fine example of proper rail-rambling. He offers us a place where we can be excited, exquisite, earnest and empathic as well.