I wouldn't consider myself to normally be a poetry person. I think much of it has to do with the fact that I had many friends in my youth (well, "many" may be overstating the case, as I never have had what one would consider "many friends," but many OF the friends I had) who would mention that they wrote poetry when introducing themselves to people. I even remember one asshole asking upon meeting me (when I was at a coffee shop with said pretentious friends) "And what do you do?" "Um...I read and listen to music. I appreciate things."Which is pretty much still the case.Anyway, because of the bad taste poetry had previously left in my mouth from the many slams I attended where BAD poetry was shouted out/drummed to/recited in an overly dramatic fashion, I've kind of avoided it as an adult.I dabble in crappy little haiku myself, and thoroughly enjoy my friend Kate's Suppertime Sonnets but anything other than that has been beyond me.When Amy (who I know through her awesome blog) announced a few months ago that her first book of poems was actually going to be published I was at once divided. First reaction: "ZOMG, AMY'S GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!" Second reaction: "Crapcrapcrap, poetry, crapcrapcrap - what if I don't get it? Then I'll look stupid and will have failed her!"Fast forward a few months. Yesterday and today I've had the absolute pleasure of reading 20 years of insight into Amy's mind that just happens to take the form of poetry.This book is full of gorgeousness. I would think that even if I didn't know her (please be aware, I may be gushing a little because I'm so insanely proud of my friend, but trust me when I say that I'm not overstating it at all). Inside Out of True, you will find poems on the sad love story of the Sun and the Moon (the fantastic melds effortlessly with the mundane), Delilah's version of events (dude, Samson was a total dick), prayers for the apocalypse to just happen already (I wept reading this one), what it's like to finally make a home for yourself...and so much more, but I won't go into further detail for fear of spoiling it. Somehow Amy managed to make me cry, then laugh - all in the same stanza (um, crap, that's the right term, right?). Then there were more tears, and more laughter. Even if you don't consider yourself a fan of poetry, definitely give this slim volume a shot. It's lovely and perfect and I can't wait to introduce more people to it.