Terry Provost

Terry Provost

Only poet in Cleveland worth his salt.
I say this because it's true and because Terry lambastes each and every one of us with his whirling, jigsaw puzzle poetry.
So quiet and unassuming until he walks up to the mic and before you know it you're covered in molten lava as he takes us behind the woodshed for the whipping of our lives.

Gentle, kind souls are too often steamrolled by celebrity whores whose sphincter mouths are filled with marbles and crow.
My ass cavity hurts from all the intruders trying to get my attention by offering me full service and then delivering far too little, far too late.
Terry's tiger tank filled with rocket fuel as he takes us boldly into outer space where no one has gone before.

The only poetry host who has offered me a featured reading in Cleveland and I'm guessing that's because my bull in a China shop blank verse doesn't serve the needs of those struck down by their own egos.
He sees past all the worthless politics that has made Cleveland a one horse poetry town as one slam poet after the next dies from over or under exposure.
I asked him the last time we saw each other if he'd do a feature with me and he answered yes, which made me happier than I've been in a long, long time.
Only poet in Cleveland, Ohio who I'd give up my seat to because he's the only Cleveland poet who gets what it means to be a word-man.
People will read this and say who the hell am I to write such trash and to that I just turn and walk away because the writing has been on the wall longer than most of these so called poets have been on the "scene."
I'm so tired of slowing down and waiting for everyone else to catch up. I'd rather fly into the sun as Terry and I get our space legs and continue assembling our poetry from the rarefied ether.