“Wolfgang Carstens debuts here with a rock-solid collection of poems where you can sense the presence of the viscera under the blood-coated muscle that is the text... Not so much a traditional anthology of poems as a manifesto and statement of intent combined with a dissertation on life and the sort of things that are deserving in it, love, loyalty, and the forgotten child inside. ”
—David McLean, Cadaver’s Dance
“Crudely Mistaken For Life reads like a how to book for understanding the great breaths of those who have taken the most powerful of leaps...The title is a perfect reflection of the brutal comedy that is always at play under Carstens’ strong poetic arm.”
—Jack Shaw, Black Rainbow
“Crudely Mistaken For Life is a tour de force of poetic skill that you won’t put down until the sun is coming up and your tears are spent and the bottle of Patron next to you is bone dry.”
—Diana Rose, The Highdra Syndicate
“You won’t forget this book. You won’t be able to put it down.”
—Marie Lecrivain, Bitchess
“This book grows on you. Enters your blood. This is compassionate, carefully crafted poetry fascinating to read and worthy of detailed study.”
—George Anderson, Bold Monkey
“Carstens gets it—he doesn’t waste time with the flowers; he digs in the dirt, about six feet down, to the root of it all.”
—R L Raymond, Sonofabitch Poems
“Crudely Mistaken For Life is stunningly evocative. Be careful when you pick up this book, you might not be able to put it down.”
—Tony Moffeit, Pueblo Blues
“Crudely Mistaken For Life rips at your soul, it exposes us, it pulls the skeleton straight through the ear hole.”
—Frank Reardon, Nirvana Haymaker
“This is poetry, rich, full and brimming with life.”
—Jack Henry, Crunked
“Crudely Mistaken For Life is an invasion.”
—Misti Rainwater-Lites, Bullshit Rodeo
“I read Crudely Mistaken For Life from cover to cover. In one breath, it seemed. Carstens’ language is weighted. Scarce, almost. The rhythm is that of the ocean waves rolling. The pulse of blood in your temples. The powerful voice, narrative pace and visceral images propel you forward. You roll through the book like a boat. The poems then burn in your mind like Francis Bacon’s paintings: Passionate, carnal, and monumental. The meat-red of cartilage, torn ligaments and twisted muscles. The tragedy of existence gushes at you, screams at you with the fierceness of a mortally wounded animal. Life begets its meaning in the face of death. Death is always one short step away, says Carstens. Wake up, motherfuckers. Live. Now. I will come back to the austere beauty of blood and bones, to the burial screams and silences of Wolfgang Carstens’ poetry. It is darkness which makes us aware of the stars.”
—Zarina Zabrisky, We, Monsters
Full Reviews
Bold Monkey, reviewed by George Anderson
Clockwise Cat, reviewed by David McLean
Last Known Nest, reviewed by Nadine Sellers
