Thurston Redding is one of my favorite poets.

He died alone, penniless and practically anonymous. The end to his story is heartbreaking enough but when you read his poems it becomes even more painful to imagine. They reveal remarkable insight about the inherent human desire to transcend the practical, workaday plight of his generation.

His work could have changed the lives of so many more people had his art not reached so far ahead of his time.