“How do you like your blue eyed boy, Mr. Death?” read the E.E. Cummings quote that tattooed Harry Crews' right bicep. I suppose he got his answer. Crews died last week; for those of us who followed his work it's quite a loss. National obits have alternately likened the 'literary outlaw' to Bukowski and Hunter S. Thompson, but those are loose, at best, comparisons. If you grew up in the South, or have a feeling for the region, you appreciate Crews surgical gift for tapping . . .
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