Go Mom was the brain child of one sick deviant known as Norris H. Buckman. Being neither man nor myth, Buckman was the freakish creative union of Shimmy Boyle and Elliott Kuhn.
In 2008, after four years of collaboration, the two parted ways, each embarking on his own solitary journey through the varied voids and wastelands of imagination. These days Kuhn finds himself residing in that bustling metropolis of urban ingenuity known as Mexico City. He spends his days gallivanting about with a pair of dogs, painting masterpieces, and back-talking high school students. As for Boyle, he has washed up on the crusty shores of Oakland, California, where he drinks too much coffee, eats the occasional chicken-fried steak, and colors outside the lines of coloring books.
Needless to say, they had a heckof a time together over the years, which in turn made Norris H. Buckman into a man of depth and bravado. You see Buckman's whole M.O. has always been to aggravate, and simultaneously stimulate, the grey sacks of silly putty going horribly under-used in the skulls of the consumer populace. It's about complicating the issue. It's not pretty, and he likes it like that. This is for the rejects, the vagabonds, the sinners, and the book burners. This poetry is not poetry at all, it's a social experiment; science fiction; a goddamn IOU to the suits in charge, with no intent to pay it all back. Let the words be what they can. Let our lives be what they should.