Don't Try and Sell Me No Pink Flamingos:
From the forward by
George Garrett
York Harbor, Maine
July 1976
Naturally I would a whole lot rather be back there among the pages of this book, paid up and in good standing, instead of up here in the front talking about it.
. . . I feel like having some bumper stickers printed up-HONK IF YOU LOVE FRED CHAPPELL, BLINK YOUR LIGHTS IF YOU BELIEVE IN COLEMAN BARKS; CAUTION I BRAKE FOR ARMADILLOS AND KELLY CHERRY. And so on. Or maybe to stand up at some session of literary Holy Rollers and holler: "Everybody who loves poetry say after me-James Seay and Julie Suk and Rosemary Daniell!" All the poets, and the editors, are to be thanked and congratulated.
As a Southerner my (own) self, now living in Maine, I'm very happy to have this book to pass around to my friends up here. The climate is a lot different and so is the accent, but the people who live here are a lot like us. Also for other kinds of Americans, from the high-priced spread of the Northeast, from the Middlewest and West, all those who may be trying to solve the mystery of our next President from Plains, Georgia, these poems will tell you all as much as you need and deserve to know. I imagine Jimmy would be in the book, too, if he know how to write poems. Matter of fact, just in case (it's been known to happen) he moves into the White House and starts to get the Big-head and forget his real roots, he'd be well advised to keep a copy of this book handy. And so would you and I.
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