What does it mean to be human? Poetry asks this question. The answer, if one looks in any anthology--from any country or era--would appear to be that humanity consists of hopelessly doomed romantics, variously-religious spiritual seekers, or soldiers. It takes a lot of searching to find a poetry about the most universal and human of activities; that of parenting or of being parented. In recent years, poets such as Bernadette Mayer, Alice Notley, and Anne Waldman have all written long celebrations of motherhood, but there has never been a poetry written by fathers about the father-daughter relationship. Tim Atkins' ON FATHERS changes this. ON FATHERS is a long poem which rolls up its sleeves, puts on a waterproof apron, and dives head-first into this messy world. From being thrown out of museums for throwing too much paint around to marching through London (repeatedly) on political demonstrations, Tim Atkins casts a warm eye on the many and various pleasures of being the father of two daughters. In a brand new poetics of the transcendent domestic, which combines the styles of The New York School and Britain's Tom Raworth, slapstick and tragedy coexist on every page. Philip Larkin wrote that your mum & dad fuck you up. ON FATHERS is a poem with plenty of fucking around but very little fucking up. Poet George Oppen asked the question; "My daughter, my daughter, what can I say of living?" Atkins' happy poem is a 120-page answer. "Come down here right now/ & get your snot off the ceiling."