Sweet Son of Pan

by Trebor Healey

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• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 1608640345
• ISBN13: 9781608640348
• Release Date: August 2010
• Publisher: Queer Mojo
• Length: 138 Pages
• Weight: 0.34 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.3" x 5.0" x 8.0"

Customer Reviews

Sweet Son of Pan, Indeed

The poems in Trebor Healey's wonderful, sexy collection SWEET SON OF PAN range from the down and dirty to the movingly sublime. Steeped in myth and in all aspects of the erotic, Healey's poetry is a celebration of male beauty and of the complexity of emotions men feel for each other. It is a book brimming with inventive word play and irreverence. Highlights include the beautifully perverse "Jonas' Fiat," "My IRA Boy," "The Star Spangled B****," "Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., South Central L.A." ( a gorgeous, erotic prayer calling for the end of racial/religious hatred) and the heartbreaking "These Are the Places Where I Am Broken," but really there isn't a loser here; it is one of the few poetry collections I've read all the way through and which I come back to again and again. Like Rumi and Whitman before him, Trebor Healey reminds us that while we are here in this crazy world we should love truly, madly, and deeply. If you get a chance to hear Mr. Healey read, please do so; he's an amazing reader who gives his words a sinuously erotic charge.

Best poetry I've read since Pinero.

This collection of poems is not gay or straight, it's awesome! I haven't been into poetry for years now and some of my best friends are poets. I buy the books, read the mags and attend the readings in order to support the art, but I must admit that most of what I've liked has come with an "explicit lyric" warning attached to the front cover. That's right...the best poetry I've heard lately is in song lyrics and not in print. That is until I read Sweet Son of Pan. I love Pinero because he said "write what you know". If you do that and you're for real, people will know because it will shine through. Nobody, including Mr. Healey can tell me he made this all up. His poems are alive with feelings. I could feel the sweat and taste the...well you get the point. His poems are real and raw and hot and exploding with emotion. Most of all, they move. Not sitting in some dark closet waiting to be discovered, but stomping down the street like a man; a man walking tall. Some of my favorites are: The Hustler, San Gabriel Valley, MLK Jr. Blvd., We Started out Janitors, Thanksgiving and Iowa. I' greatly anticipating the new novel.

Pan Lives!

As Gavin Geoffrey Dillard observes in his introduction, some of the most powerful spiritual poetry has its roots in the erotic--Whitman, Blake, Rumi, Mirabai. Like his forebears, Healey is a shaman of the word. This collection is a fitting homage to the randy cloven-hooved demigod. The poetry invokes the god into the reader (the shaman's unwitting co-conspirator). The god then reaches down, drawing forth the most carnal, and coaxes it, like a serpent, to the crown. Quickly one realizes that spirit is spirit--a continuity of being from the chthonic to the divine. William Burroughs wrote, in his Apolcalypse, of a cry heard by mariners off the coast of Tuskini: "The great god pan is dead." Now that Trebor Healey has proven himself to be the god's sweet son, I have every suspicion that news of Pan's death has been greatly exaggerated. (Ashe Journal #5.2)