Born in Michigan (1), Gregory Crosby spent his formative years in Las Vegas (2) , where for more than a decade he was an art critic, (3) columnist and cultural commentator. His poems have appeared in several journals, including Court Green, Epiphany, Copper Nickel, Paradigm, Jacket, Ophelia Street, Rattle, Caveat Lector, Poem, [sic], Pearl, BigCityLit, The South Carolina Review, The Red Rock Review, Stirring and others (4). He is the author of three chapbooks: Twenty Poems (1996), Revenge of a Mortal Hand (1998) and Satan’s Skull Glows White Hot (2000) (5).
In 2002, as a poetry consultant for the Cultural Affairs Division of the City of Las Vegas, he was instrumental in the creation of the Poets Bridge public art project in the Lewis Avenue Park in downtown Las Vegas. His dedicatory poem for the project, “The Long Shot,” was subsequently reproduced in bronze and installed in the park (6); later, it appeared in the University of Nevada Press anthology Literary Nevada: Writings from the Silver State. In 2004, he was awarded a Nevada Arts Council Fellowship in Literary Arts (7).
He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the City College of New York (8), where he won the 2006 Marie Ponsot Poetry Prize (9). His manuscript, The Court of Erros, was a finalist for the 2006 Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize. (10) He is currently co-editor, with Jillian Brall, of the online poetry journal Lyre Lyre. (11)
1. East Lansing, to be precise. When I was eight or nine, Borges visited the campus of Michigan State University. I, however, was at that time far more exicted to meet Stan Lee at one of his many college appearance, where Stan "The Man" praised me for pronouncing Sub-Mariner correctly and then signed my copy of The Origins of Marvel Comics, which I sold many years later to pay the rent.
2. "The only place where you can have a good time without actually enjoying yourself." (Attributed to comedian Jack Carter)
3. At one point, there were only two art critics in Vegas: myself and Dave Hickey. Dave made out a little better.
4. Publishing poems in obscure journals is the literary equivalent to a morphine drip.
5. Fortunately, these are all long out of print.
6. From whence it was stolen by scrap metal thieves in the summer of 2008. (It was subsequently replaced, and awaits the next round of desperate characters.)
7. Eighth time's the charm.
8. Sort of a hoop poets jump through in American, but you can do worse than to jump through a hoop with Elaine Equi, Wayne Koestenbaum, and Marilyn Hacker.
9. An amazing poet. If you have a chance to see her read, do so.
10. "Daily the prowling sunlight whets its knife/Along the sidewalk. We almost never meet./In the Rembrandt dark he lifts his amber life./My bar is somewhat further down the street."
11. Your pants are now on fire.