Norman "Buzz" Minnick

FOLLY   by Norman "Buzz" Minnick

Folly (2013) may be obtained from your local bookstore or from on-line vendors such as Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

   BUY HERE   
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Wind Publications
600 Overbrook Dr
Nicholasville, KY 40356

If the fool would persist in his folly, he would become wise.
          –– William Blake

Remember that episode of The Twilight Zone where the department store mannequins came to life and each got to spend one month out of the year living with the humans? The poems in Folly are like that. Only, the joke is on us because we don't know if these poems are real or if he just made them up.
          — S. M. Masterson, Whipping Boy Weakly

Aye, not since Patrick Kavanaugh penned, "The Holy Ghost descends / At random like the muse / On wise men and fool"... has any poet been more the fool.
          — Casey Mahoney MacDuff McFerguson O'Hoolihan, Haggis and 
               Warm Puke: the Ulster Scots Quarterly Review

No other poet writing today is bold enough to bring words such as "muttonchops," "concupiscence," "patois," and "lily-livered" back into vogue.
          — Roberto Belie, Poets Weakly Digest

Norman Minnick frightens me.
          — George W. Bush

From the book —


I touch the page
as if I expected to feel
something other than cool
smoothness, an instinct I share
with my infant son
who also traces the contours
of each figure 
and correctly names
each: bull, bison,
deer, horse, human.


Three boys stand poolside and talk
in awkward syllabics to one 
of two girls, trying not to let their voices
crack. She has an August tan in June, 
is the prettier of the two,
and she knows it and regrets it
and answers each with terse replies
hoping they will go away and not
make her friend feel bad about herself. 
Yet they don’t take the hint
and continue to show themselves to her, 
to tighten their stomachs and cross 
their arms to show some kind
of definition in their chest and biceps.
Part of her enjoys the attention
and her friend knows it––the one
we’ve neglected to notice, the one
sitting beside her eating cheese puffs,
the tips of her fingers blazing like tiny
shriveled suns.