Paul Hunter has been poet, teacher, performer, playwright, musician, instrument-maker, artist, editor, publisher, grassroots arts activist, worker on the land, and shade-tree mechanic. For the past twelve years he has produced fine letterpress books under the imprint of Wood Works-currently including 23 books and 5o broadsides. His poems have appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Bloomsbury Review, Iowa Review, North American Review, Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Raven Chronicles and The Southern Review, as well as in three full-length books and several chapbooks. Recipient of the 1998 Pym Cup, the 1999 Nelson Bentley Award, and the 2005 Washington Book Award, he lives and works in Seattle.

Other poems by Paul Hunter in Verse Daily:
August 1, 2007:   "What a Boy Lies Awake Wondering" " Footsore trudging these fields..."
March 13, 2004:  "Sweet Being" "The deer will eat..."

Books by Paul Hunter: Come the Harvest, Ripening, Breaking Ground

Other poems on the web by Paul Hunter:
Four poems
Two poems

About Come the Harvest:

"What Paul Hunter says of the old folks' speech best describes his own memorable poetry: `couched in tangibles, offering life more cleanly felt in fewer words.' Like the woodcuts of his poetry broadsides, there's an incised, hard-cut beauty to his language, making an indelible print in the mind of a way of life: `Looking after all those gone before... ordering the stone they would tell / the man cut it deep make it shine."
—Eleanor Wilner

"Paul Hunter's new collection of poems, Come the Harvest, looks back to a rural world of outhouses, cash crops, 4-H piglets, suicide knobs, the top-rail of the fence beside the barn, and above all, to the families who gave themselves without question to that world. These poems look back with love, but they also sift through the blur of time to wonder, was this world ever real? In Hunter's hands, the answer is, yes: the pastures rise, the evening comes along, barn swallows thread the sky, and that world comes back with all its quiet and humility, with a wisdom that never needs to announce itself. It is a world gone by, perhaps; remembering it is at once a joy and a sweet lament."
—Maurice Manning