Graham Foust was kind enough to send me his book As In Every Deafness from Flood Editions. I got it in the mail yesterday and have been hitting it pretty hard since. These are the first poems of his that I've read. They are so spare and minimal, bare and vulnerable. They say a mouthful with the few words he gives them.
I think I'm gonna try to throw down a few Foust-style flips tonight (I started a new slang word for "poems": "flips"--play along).