The Innocent Assassins: Poems

Loren Eisley was born on the Great Plains. The badlands, where bone hunting was a way of life. These are the poems of a bone hunter. A naturalist. A midnight optimist. Like Robert Louis Stevenson once remarked that some landscapes cry out for a story, or Thoreau, who never managed to escape the canopy of the great Eastern forest or Charles Dickens, haunted by the cold wet streets of London. This is Eisley's poetic landscape. His muse. In the Innocent Assassins Eisley sparks that primordial verse that resonates within the reptilian brain.