Lots of truths here--about fake "green" biz in Green Poem, about pesticide in The New Lovesong of JA Prufrock, about the homeless in A New Beatitude--and some art, including a good pun, "paradise/pair o' dice," and a great pun--an asthmatic is "PHLEGMboyant." He occasionally uses medial rhymes, within the line, like a rapper--"back with the jack from the track," in Diner. The Welsh call this cwynghanedd, and I enjoy it. Thompson's poetry is better than the rap I've seen; yes, rap is poetry, bad poetry or "doggerel." (Chaucer actually gives himself the worst, doggerel poetry in his own Canterbury Tales, and has the barman Host call him out, "Thy drasty rhyming is not worth a turd. This may well be rime doggerel.")
One attractive feature of this collection is all Thompson's epistolary poems, "For Marlene," "For Emily Campbell." Another is the occasional quotable line, like "We bled into the headlines," in Dear Enemy. Overall, however, I find his verse hard to memorize (contrast Yeats, Dickinson, Herrick, etc), though I did manage to memorize (and recite at opportune moments) one, below.
Negatives: No punctuation, so a sluicy ambiguity and confusion. Perhaps too many uses of "shit," though in the jail poem it's essential.
Poorest last line, "That barbarous act venerating our existential void." It's prose.
But here's the one I memorized: "The Tears of Jesus"
After the mayoral
Sweep of the homeless
From the streets into jail
Jesus wept.
The mayor then ordered
The tears to be swept away, too.
The tears of Jesus are bad for business
During the Christmas rush.
I mean, C'mon, said the mayor to Jesus
Don't be such a big baby. ( )