Andrew Glaze was born in Tennessee and raised in Birmingham, where he eventually returned to work as a reporter during the civil rights struggle. A 1942 graduate of Harvard, Glaze was 44 when his first major book of poetry, Damned Ugly Children, a runner-up for the Pulitzer Prize, was published. He has published a dozen more volumes.

Books by Andrew Glaze:

Other poems on the web by Andrew Glaze:
Six poems

Andrew Glaze According to Wikipedia.

About Overheard in a Drugstore:

"For a long time now Andrew Glaze has challenged the literary establishment with his sharp edges and jagged metaphors. His vivid sense of place and his love of the absurd form little dramas no one else could conceive. A Glaze poem, like his “passing owl,” can make “the skin crawl with its amalgam of death and failure,” yet leave the reader thrilled and exhilarated. Akin to Whitman and Hart Crane, yet differing from both, he has been an essential poet for more than sixty years."
—William Doreski

"Overheard in a Drugstore confirms that Andrew Glaze is a true American poet in the vein of Whitman, Williams, and Frost. His cadences, his voice and his vision are gleaned from decades of treading our soils. There isn't a page that doesn't sing, a line that doesn't point in the direction of greatness."
—Pablo Medina

"When Emerson cautioned against hesitation, avarice, and following, he didn’t know how big his voice would become through the brilliant metaphors of Andrew Glaze; and here is Glaze again, at the height of the performance as it were, of his own great Shakespearean play, full of love and loss, tears of hilarity, remorse, and joy, that have always included us in the noble South and North of his true America. Here, the Glaze who sees God in the wretched of the earth can echo Mother Teresa while he sings quietly at the base of the Bodhi Tree, waiting for us."
—Theodore Haddin

"These visionary, playful, sometimes elusive poems are remarkable --ebullient, musical, ever light on their (mostly nonmetrical!) feet. These buoyant dispatches roam the borders of the unsayable, bringing new sense to the “free” in free verse, energy incarnate in word. And though Southern by birth and heritage, Glaze is every bit a Whitmanesque bard of New York City, his true spiritual home. No wonder the sun--giver of light and life--appears in so many of his poems: these joyous valedictories illuminate our mysterious world and deserve our thanks and celebration."
—Peter Schmitt