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"It was hard to imagine that Richard Leebrick, who leaned in my doorway at The Denali literary magazine forty-three years ago, was the author of that voluminous, explosive, genius manuscript tossed onto my desk the week before. Like Leonard Cohen and Dylan Thomas had a baby who played the saxophone. We happily published those first poems and sketches, and it was the beginning of a long and beautiful collaborative friendship. Over the years, I have read his poems, movie scripts, plays and a fairytale for adults (complete with musical CD). All of them are imbued with Richard's unique and…mehr

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"It was hard to imagine that Richard Leebrick, who leaned in my doorway at The Denali literary magazine forty-three years ago, was the author of that voluminous, explosive, genius manuscript tossed onto my desk the week before. Like Leonard Cohen and Dylan Thomas had a baby who played the saxophone. We happily published those first poems and sketches, and it was the beginning of a long and beautiful collaborative friendship. Over the years, I have read his poems, movie scripts, plays and a fairytale for adults (complete with musical CD). All of them are imbued with Richard's unique and mystical, romantically spiritual voice. First and foremost, dear reader, Richard Leebrick is a poet. One whose loves, losses, joys, recoveries, transformations, and humanity dig in and find their home in your soul. And they don't let go. There's nothing 'half' about The Half-life of Desire. I invite you to fall in." -Sarita Baker Brown
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Autorenporträt
Been writing since I was a kid.Lots of stories... a few plays-some produced-one turned into a film... (*) ...and lots of stray fragments stored away in psycho Siberia where my muse eventually drowned and disappeared sometime at the end of the last millennium...In 2004 a miracle happened... I got sober... and, rather than becoming an instantly more prolific writer-I rediscovered my love of ice-cream instead. By 2007, however, the muse had gurgled up enough to whisper that she would take me back if I promised to be faithful... And each year since-except 2017 when I fostered my grand-kids-I wrote nightly.... It became a fun little custom for me to name the "book of each year"... and so-"Recusitating the Muse" "Near Midnight Prayers" "A room of sounds unsleeping" etc... These poems are boiled down from the past decade and a half of my scribblings and literary leavings trapped in the book of years...In 2015 I self-published a big overgrown poem-a "kid's story for adults" called "A Journey to PeggySioux".... It was a fine experiment and a great experience... And a highly grandiose and expensive endeavor on my part-with the soundscape and illustrations... Sheesh! In collecting the pieces for this volume I vaguely aimed to create a book that would explain to my daughter why my head was so busy... but she died in March of this year... And now, I move forward-- to keep my head busy and my heart intact-- by dedicating this work her.