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br / br / em Christopher has not met Shane. It is not known whether Christopher knows or has known (in the biblical sense or otherwise) any rednecks, or even tannednecks. /em br / br / em Some of Shane's work is on Amazon, but not this one.
strong I Want To Fuck A Redneck /strong is available through strong Scintillating Publications, /strong 21 Russell Street, Burlington, VT 05401. But you can strong order it /strong from strong Scintillating Publications /strong at: /em a href="mailto:Mustiis@aol.com" em Mustiis@aol.
com /em /a em . Order it now for only $5, and you will get a free new envelope around the book, plus genuine used stamps! Want to contact Shane Himself?
His email is /em a href="mailto:starsissy42@hotmail.com" em starsissy42@hotmail.com /em /a em .
Neither Chris, Scintillating, Shane or myself know who the 41 other starsissies are--but it might be fun to find out! Anyone have some free time for a research project? /em br / br / Shane Allison writes no holds barred-shameless truth about being a gay black man in the south.
br / br / The title poem describes not fucking, but fantasy rape, and could make even the most enlightened queer squirm: “as I yell take off that fuckin’ shirt/motor oil beneath the fingernails/of those king kong hands/his butt tips up for a nigger queer fuck.” br / br / Aside from sexual poems, which are his forte, he also uses word play to have a mind fuck with popular culture: "No one talks about Tonya Harding anymore. I don’t know anyone who talks about Tonya Harding.
nor do I know anyone who likes Tonya Harding. Know one I know talks about Tonya Harding. Know one I know who knows someone talks about Tonya Harding," and the poems goes on like that, repeating the same words around and around until the irrelevance of the subject matter is humorously clear.
br / br / But, mainly, Allison uses his pen for sexual catharsis. ‘In the Event of My Dildo’s Demise,’ ‘masturbation poem,’ ‘Kiss Me, John Before Your Wife Comes Home,’ ‘My Fuckbuddy Has A Girlfriend,’ are some of the titles, detailing clandestine gay sex, loneliness, infidelity and raw cruising in the dirtiest, seediest of places. br / br / The only complaint I have about this book is the layout.
The poems are in a very small font with very light print. It seems like poems of this nature would warrant more distinction. I happen to know that the original cover art for this chap was censored by the printer, thus holding up production of the book for quite a while.
So the cover art chosen is not sexual at all and more subtle, which is fine; but his previous chap, “Black Fag,” by Future Tense publications I found much more artistically pleasing to the eye. br / br / This is Allison’s fifth book of poetry and is outsider writing at its best; tender, humorous and raunchy. I highly recommend it.
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As long as it isn't her handbag. /em br / br / Piss On Your Parade--poems from a disillusioned pessimist. br / It's available for a mere $5, from Cynthia Ruth Lewis, P.
O. Box 232984, Sacramento, CA 05823-0433 br / br / The introduction to this book reads: “Enjoy the contents or die!!
Any complaints? Cram ‘em!” br / br / Like Misti Rainwater-Lites, Lewis is not afraid to make anger and sexuality a staple of her poetry with only the rare instance of apology.
And where some female poets hollowly court self destruction, Lewis does not. br / br / “The Difference Between A Blowhard and a Diehard: “one positive thing I can say towards drinking: I don’t drive recklessly/commit crimes, or sleep with strange men while under the influence—I do enough of that while sober.” She is not a Courtney Love clone, though she certainly has the attitude.
In the title poem she writes: “I don’t usually carry handbags/but I’ve got to conceal the hatchet with something/I’m not purposely out for blood, but should the urge strike, which it usually does, it’s nice to be prepared.” br / br / In ‘Outcast,’ she makes her stance: “I’ve never rushed out to see a “hit” movie/I don’t “do” the mall/I don’t pay attention to or/participate in gossip/I enjoy being on the other side/because if being different/is deemed wrong in this fleeting/fuck of a world, I don’t ever wanna be right.” br / br / These poems are filled with rage and not the least bit melancholy.
This is the sort of inspired anger that may make one want to rally for the author. These are poems you can get inside but will have to claw your way out. br / br / In ‘Images,’ one of the few poems in the book that is not pure anger, she writes about her dying dog: “finally pulling you roughly from the car/to pretend I didn’t care, not feeling the sun warm on my back, or your tangle of fur soft in my hands…” br / br / A very good first chapbook.
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com" www.sumachpress.com /a ).
Available on Amazon. br / br / em Victor does not know Gail. Gail is not a ULA member, and maybe has never even visited Philadelphia.
/em br / br / See, there is this fourteen year old girl. She wants to taste life. Although independent, she still defines herself in terms of how men see her--she is a product of her times.
To spread her wings, she starts hanging out at the local “bad girls” place. Soon enough this guy comes along, a sweet-talker, who has trouble remembering her name. They fall into the sack.
..frequently.
..he starts to remember her name.
..and she becomes pregnant.
br / br / Then he tells her the truth about himself, at least some of it—he is married. He agrees to run away with her…only, he never shows up. The girl is in crisis.
Where she lives pregnant single women are stoned to death. To save her life, she makes up a story and agrees to marry a jerk. Her story?
That she became pregnant not by her boyfriend, who turns out to be a drug dealer, but by God. And that she carries the son of God. br / br / By now in the girl's story, it is around six months B.
C. The girl lives in a hick town called Nazareth. Her name is Mary.
br / br / And so begins “The Story of Mary”, a wonderful, controversial, thought-provoking novel that takes Christianity and shakes the hell out of it. Literally. br / br / At first, true to the spirit of a rebellious teenager, the writing is snarky and often hilarious.
Mary’s description of riding across the desert with her new husband, Joseph, who is not terribly bright: “I have a pain in the ass from riding one and being married to another.” In Bethlehem the three wise men she meets are characterized as the three “wise guys”, straight out of a Martin Scorsese film, complete with Brooklyn accents. br / br / However, as the book progresses and Mary ages, the tone matures with her.
One of the lovely aspects of this novel is how it not only grows on you, but that it grows, period. As Mary would say, just like a person already. The hilarity of the opening third of the novel evolves into a more deeply felt narrative as Jesus is born and grows up believing the crazy story mommy spread about him being the Son of God.
Meanwhile, it is Mary herself who is the healer. In fact, she opens up a hospital, becomes a midwife and…. br / br / This book has too many enchanting discoveries to give you spoilers.
br / br / Gail Sidonie Sobat has written a remarkable novel. It is like its human narrator, growing from adolescence to maturity as it progresses. Yes, you already know how some of the book ends.
Her son Jesus’ story is well known, the meshegunner rabble rouser. What you do not know are the funny, insightful, dramatic twists she creates to make the reader think about what religion is all about, what responsibility is all about, what—well, pretty much, by the time she is done, what pretty much everything is all about. br / br / This is what “underground” literature should be and what mainstream literature all too often avoids.
Sidonie Sobat takes on patriarchy, Christianity, medicine, life responsibilities, family relationships, commercialism, social politics, political politics--you name it--—and turns them all on their ears stunningly, leaving the reader with a lifetime’s experience to think about. But this is no polemic (although, it gets close at times, and, frankly, guys don't turn out to be that wise). It is very entertaining, funny, dramatic, profoundly involving, and certainly worth the scheckels.
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So, is this a secret kinda thing we should look into, or is he rebelling? /em em Maybe it's because Christopher is a poet and zine creator. Zen Baby is his baby, and the latest issue is hot off the presses.
You can order it from Christopher himself for $2 (please add postage!), free to prisoners Zen Baby is usually published twice per year. Order info:Christopher Robin, PO Box 1611, Santa Cruz, CA 95061-1611.
You can also check out Christopher's available work on the ULA website, at: /em a href="http://www.literaryrevolution.com/products.
html" em http://www.literaryrevolution.com/products.
html /em /a em . /em br / br / As for Modern Love, it is a well-worth-it $10. br / For a copy: Andrew Scott, Sunnyoutside Press P.
O. Box 441429 Somerville, MA 02144. Or, a href="http://www.
sunnyoutside.com" www.sunnyoutside.
com /a . br / The book is also available on Amazon. br / br / Sunnyoutside’s 2nd fiction chapbook, em Modern Love /em is a short story about a young couple: a failed band promoter and his girlfriend, a bartender, determined to leave Indiana and get rich on the music scene in California.
Together they cut loose of their small town, sell everything, and jump into their Chevy Cavalier, headed for Los Angeles. br / br / On the way there, they discuss their dreams and learn that they have very different musical tastes, which sets the tone for their whole relationship. Their car breaks down and they encounter a strange but helpful person in Tucson that changes both their lives forever.
br / br / This story has many synchronistic overtones about fate, destiny and choice. The ending may surprise you. br / br / strong Sunnyoutside /strong is one of the best small presses to come out in the last few years.
The publisher has a unique sense for finding quality work. Not only are the chapbooks themselves works of art, his choice of authors never seems to disappoint. This a great story and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
br / br / The book includes illustrations by Ed Herrera. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature! /div
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br / br / em Christopher has met Neal. Christopher wrote this review despite his working hard on the latest issue of his zeen. So, give Christopher a gold star!
But maybe he could use a sandwich and a nap even more. Some Neal Wilgus books are available on Amazon (if he's the same author), but not this one. br / /em br / $10.
To get a copy, try writing to: br / Neal Wilgus, 927 Camino Hermosa Corrales, NM 87048. br / br / Wilgus has been writing and publishing for over thirty years and it shows. br / br / He has fine tuned his literary sense of the absurd, influenced by the Discordian movement, and these stories are more original than what you would find in the satirical Onion Newspaper, though certainly in the same vein.
These “spoof” stories (whether they are spoofs or not should be determined by what sort of reality you live in, and there are many, according to Wilgus) are inspired by the subconscious, a deep imagination, a finger on the pulse of Coyote Magic. br / br / You may want to ingest these stories like medicine in dire times, as humor may be the only refuge we have at the end of the world. br / br / My favorites are: em Dog Sues for Divorce /em , (the Kanine Liberation Organization seeks an injunction against mankind on the grounds of mental cruelty and physical incompatibility), em IRS Out for Boffo Laughs /em where the IRS vows to tax people every time they smile, so humor has to go underground (“blackmarket jokesters”) only to be thwarted by the Laffswat team whose mission it to is “to keep bootleg humor under control.
” br / br / I also enjoyed: em Allegiance Pledge Found to Be Fake /em , em Cuba Arrested for Speeding /em , em Invisible Man Disappears /em , (“we’re not sure what to make of it,” Lost said, “but somehow all the computer records relating to Inviz have been erased and even the hard-copy files have been misplaced. At this point, we don’t even have a picture of the Invisible Man to give out to police agencies and the general public. Whether or not this is a deliberate act or just a coincidence is not clear at the present time.
”) br / br / Wilgus is keeping the spirit of the strong em Church of the Subgenius /em /strong alive. In the 80’s this sort of devious disinformation would find itself in my mailbox, the ONLY place to find “alternative realities,” or anything subversive, as there was no internet, ONLY mail-order. For those of you who miss Reverend Bob and get tired of all the bad, droll news, treat yourself to some belly laughs in this delightful book.
br / br / Neal Wilgus does NOT have a MySpace! Nothing should stand between a surrealist and his mailbox. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature!
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You may find additional samples of his work by going to: a href="http://www.literarti.net/Ries/" http://www.
literarti.net/Ries/ /a and you may write him at a href="mailto:charlesr@execpc.com" charlesr@execpc.
com /a br / br / em Does Charles know any of the 32 poets in this anthology? Well really: he does not live in California to begin with, and if he spent all his time meeting other writers, when would he have time to write his own stuff? Give the guy a break, eh?
You really are way too demanding! /em br / br / Author: New American, copyright 2005. Alan Kernoff.
Anthology issued by Trafford Press. Distributed by Zeitgeist-Press. ( a href="http://www.
zeitgeist-press.com/" http://www.zeitgeist-press.
com/ /a ) 323 Pages / Price: 23.00 br / TO ORDER GO TO: a href="http://www.zeitgeist-press.
com/" http://www.zeitgeist-press.com/ /a br / br / Context, talent and emerging form are the co-parents of art movements.
When these three aspects of great art collide (as they seldom do) a child is conceived. A creative voice so unique in its character that when it is seen, heard, or read it guides the reader unmistakenly back to its place of origin. br / br / As I read the thirty-two poets whose works comprise this expansive anthology entitled, New American Underground Poetry Vol.
1: The Barbarians of San Francisco - Poets from Hell, I welcomed the raw honest energy I found in these long narrative poems. I felt as if I was there with them, listening to them. They called themselves the Barbarians.
Every Thursday night from the mid-late 80’s through about 1994, their home was a tiny wine and beer tavern located on twenty-second and Guerrero in the Mission District of San Francisco. For just under ten years it was the home of a perfect storm - a Thunder Dome in which spoken word poetry of high emotion, insight, and humor was delivered and refined. This excerpt from David Lerner’s, “Mein Kampf” addresses the objective of their collective efforts, “all I want to do / is make poetry famous // all I want to do is / burn my initials into the sun // all I want to do is / read poetry from the middle of a / burning building / standing in the fast lane of the / freeway / falling from the top of the / Empire State Building // the literary world / sucks dead dog dick //I’ll rather be Richard Speck / than Gary Snyder / I’d rather ride a rocket ship to hell / than a Volvo to Bolinas.
” And indeed this desire to raise poetry above its lost status as a mainstream literary art colors many of the poems in this collection. These writers wrote and spoke words that could not be confused. They were metaphor lit and smash mouth rich.
br / br / Context: The back room at Cafe Babar. A tiny performance space of only about 30' x 30', with wood bleachers and corrugated aluminum siding stretched over the walls. At critical points, the poet could hit the walls and the entire small room would vibrate.
Often, there were 75-100 people stuffed shoulder-to-shoulder, crowding the halls and every spare inch of space, hungry for what the poet could do. "The Babar crowd was pretty merciless," says Zietgeist Press Co-Founder and Café Babar regular, Bruce Isaacson. "There was no polite applause or lukewarm response.
If they loved you, they let you know, and if they didn't, they really let you know: hoots, whistles, heckling. Even beer glasses would sometimes get tossed at the stage." br / br / Talent: In the forward to this anthology, co-editor Alan Allen described the odd mix of tribal members to this scene, “The barbarian poets were broke.
Won the west-coast slams but couldn’t afford the tickets to go East to compete. Lived only to write, to perform, to read. Many were without jobs (with notable exceptions), or disabled, or addicted, or worked in the sex industry.
Most struggled to pay the rent, or eat well, wore thrift-shop clothes. IQ’s were the highest, hearts the biggest, poems what mattered most. Was all about feeling their voices, their words, their lines, their lives.
” This collision of wild and diverse poets, writers, musicians, and performers created the ethos of that moment including: Laura Conway, Joie Cook, David West, Eli Coppola, David Gollub, Vampyre Mike Kassel, Kathleen Wood, Zoe Rosenfeld, Sparrow 13 LaughingWand, Q.R. Hand, Alan Kaufman, and numerous others who would go through the baptism of fire that was Café Babar.
These writers and many more are featured in this exceptional collection of poetry. br / br / Emerging Form: Richard Silberg in his introduction to The Babarians of San Francisco - Poets from Hell says, “As opposed to movements that have centered on magazines, a college, a writers group, the Babarians have forged their work in a performing space.” He goes on to say, “Barbarians focus on that performing voice.
The Barbarian voice goes for personhood, somewhat like the voice of Bob Dylan’s lyrics, or a comedian’s voice, or the voice of a TV newsman. Emphasis is shifted from the page to performance. The poem on the page is more like a script or a score.
” Berkeley Poet Laureate Julia Vinograd told me, “This period was an explosion of poetry and Café Babar was at its epicenter. The work was unlike anything that had been done before; we fed off each other. New things were being said in ways that were forceful, serious, and funny.
The best of the young poets of their time read there along side total unknowns.” br / br / The November 4, 1992 issue of the San Francisco Bay Guardian described the poets reading at Café Babar as, “The Best poets working in America today. The cradle of the American avant-garde tradition.
Formed in the crucible of real economic despair political threat. Poets of lowered expectations political rage. Café Barbar is the symbolic crucible of the spoken-word scene where gather the keepers of the flame – the poets doing poetry before it caught the public eye.
” br / br / All the poems in collection were written to be heard and grasped quickly. They speak to the world in which the writer lived. Here was a tribe and a moment in time that personified what is best about poetry – raw, straight forward revelation.
Emotional honesty delivered in a manner that demands attention. br / br / Here are two short excerpts from The Barbarians of San Francisco. The first is from “I Was a Teenage Godzilla” by Vampyre Mike Kassel.
“When I was ten / I was hit by a very small nuclear warhead / which slipped out of a torpedo tube / while my cub scout pack was visiting / the Navy submarine U.S.S.
Caligula / on a field trip. / The incident was hushed up. / The other cubs perished / but I mutated into a Teenage Godzilla / just like in the movies.
/ Only I was still only five feet ten inches tall / Just a friendly li’l two legged radioactive Komodo dragon / It wasn’t so bad / My parents were pissed / but the government paid them off / and they just had to kind of live with it.” And another from Sparrow 13 LaughingWand entitled, “Larry Said”: “Oh the filthy chalice of his skull / blown apart in New York / Oh, his razorback heart and his lead sugar mouth, / Larry said his mother died in a house fire / while he was in the joint / Larry said it was political. / Larry told / the dumbest arrest story I ever heard / how he broke into a liquor store and got too drunk to escape.
/ The Nevada beauty of his tomcat ass could / scratch your eyes out. / Larry said he was an honest thief. / Larry said I wasn’t queer / because he love me.
/ Thanksgiving we had lentils under my tarp / in a storm at Davenport. / Larry wasn’t a queer / because I really wasn’t a man.” br / br / They stood stripped naked before a crowd of true believers and had to sell it.
They had to make it real, and they had to make it work or they were shouted down. Posers were persecuted at the Café Barbar. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature!
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Send donations to strong The Christopher and Alan Should Meet Committee /strong c/o this review blog. /em br / br / $5, Chiron Review Press br / 522 E. South Ave br / St John, Kansas br / 67576-2212 br / br / 21 pages br / br / A long poem delivering matter of fact lines attacking Bush, specifically during the time of Hurricane Katrina and also against the war, etc.
A meaningful and original piece, though the subject matter has many times been written, a news-poem of this sort is a necessary archive. br / br / On Katrina: “now that the avenging angel of doom in the form of a force 5 hurricane has invaded our borders/has landed dead center in the below sea level city of NOLA”. Throughout he attacks religion capitalism and lashes out at current state of the apocalypse in a litany of doom reminiscent of a political treatise by Hirschman or Winans.
br / br / “Protest is what keeps America free/not your america/your America is an illusion/a delusion of isolationism ignorance.” br / br / This is a poem I will not soon forget. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature!
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And is not balance what we should strive for in life and art? And while Christopher, a fine poet, has met art, it is not clear whether he has met Art. We are not sure who Gary has met.
/em br / br / $5 br / St. Vitus Press (2006) br / a href="http://www.saintvituspress.
com" www.saintvituspress.com /a br / a href="mailto:stvitusfan@aol.
com" stvitusfan@aol.com /a or: br / a href="mailto:moorebt@spinn.net" moorebt@spinn.
net /a br / br / If you are a Todd Moore fan you will enjoy Gary Goude, and vice versa. Goude’s poems are cut-throat, matter of fact images about those who live trapped in the everyday horror of the human condition. br / br / Goude is an outlaw poet, and by that I mean he’s been places a lot of readers may rather not go.
He also uses an economy of words, in the style of Moore. You may imagine through his poems that he has probably woken up next to the train tracks more than once in his life. Like Moore, he has lived hard and close to the bone.
br / br / These two poets fit perfectly together in this outstanding chap, which includes a color cover image taken from the film strong em Reservoir Dogs /em /strong . Goude takes us through the depths with tight lines: “I believe in the destruction/of everything man has touched and created,” (‘I Just Sit Wait’); and from ‘The Bitter Life:’ “your teeth will begin to fall out/one by one/ your dreams will haunt you/with visions of ex wives/faces of your children/memories of dead love. Welcome to Hell.
” br / br / This is definitely not poetry one might read while sipping herbal tea in the garden. This is blood and guts writing while living in a world full of humans and rats, with not much distinction between the two. br / br / The 2nd half of the book will not be disappointing to long time readers of Moore.
If you light a match the poem will have ended, but the scent will linger in the air and you may feel like you narrowly escaped having your flesh singed. Moore’s section is entitled: “Lost in America,” and he is speaking for the forgotten: ‘benny always:’ “ask benny what the war was like/benny smiled/sd what war/then tapped his temple/steel plates/no pictures in my head.” br / br / Each poem he writes is a unique story, a flash, a quick movie, a jarring of the senses, unforgettable.
Moore has by now mastered the long poem (“Dillinger,”), and no one else can deliver a short poem like he does. I prefer to read his shorter poems, but no matter the length, the delivery is always clean, sharp, delivered with dangerous style. br / br / I also like the inclusion of old black and white movie posters in this chap.
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Ries br / em Charles has recently been appointed to the Wisconsin Poet Laureate Commission. Holy smokes!!
Don't you think you should check out his own work at: /em a href="http://www.literarti.net/Ries/" em http://www.
literarti.net/Ries/ /em /a em ? /em br / br / Thunder Sandwich Publishing br / 191 Pages/ Poetry, Short Stories and Photography br / Price: $17.
50 br / strong em Order directly from Splake at P.O. Box 508, Calumet, Michigan 49913.
Make all checks and money orders payable to t.k. splake.
/em /strong br / br / em As you will read below, Charles and t. have embibed a beverage together. /em br / br / Thomas Hugh Smith was 44 years old when he wrote his first poem in 1979.
Now known as t. kilgore splake, he has become one of the small press icons. His work and name appear everywhere.
The self-proclaimed “graybeard dancer” told me, “Early one l979 morning while nursing a modest hangover and drinking a cup of coffee brewed from the coals of the previous night’s campfire, I felt compelled to write my thoughts about the past several days living in the pictured rocks wilderness outback. I collected several additional poems over my summer of camping, and upon returning to Battle Creek after Labor Day, they were published in my first chapbook edition titled pictured rocks poetry.” br / br / Until that day Splake had never written poetry, “I taught political science at Kellogg Community College in Battle Creek, Michigan, for twenty-six years.
I lectured on the dynamics of a federal system of government and outlined the characteristics and functions of the American political party system. However, outside the world of academia, my job status was at best anonymous. If I was in with a strange group of people and asked what I did for a living, I might as well have replied I was a brain surgeon for the understanding most people have of what is political science.
Now, I declare myself a poet, and it still seems I am anonymous to the average individual.” br / br / strong em Backwater Graybeard Twilight /em /strong is the magnum opus of Splake's work. It is a comprehensive collection of both his word and photo art.
The 150 pages devoted to his writing are dense and word filled; word overflowing, words everywhere; for Splake puts to paper what comes to his mind in what he calls stream of consciousness prose. I asked him about this and he told me, “What initially attracted me to poetry, and later writing stream of consciousness prose, was the absence of necessary writing rules. In a doing contest with the ever elusive damn-dame lady muse, I seize a passion and redline it.
I still compose my writing works in long hand, scribbling between the lines of quill econo legal padlets. With the rough long hand drafts, I then key a poem or a story into a word document and turn to the fine-tuning the writing into the best shape possible.” br / br / One of the characteristics of the writing in Backwater Graybeard Twilight is its sheer volume.
I often felt like I was drowning in a tidal wave of images and metaphors. This machine gunning of words often left me feeling lost and falling; not an altogether unpleasant experience, but even numinous falling needs nuance and direction lest we shut down the sponge in our head that reads and absorbs. Here is an example from, “homeboy escape”: “small town, womb nurturing captive population of fascists / and losers, hometurf where acting like a man is all important, // a few basking in fleeting, momentary athletic glories, awash / in school colors, cheers, the rest settling for spectator status, small // value for sadness of beating nobody, // small numbers move on town the highway, seeking college / education, others off to a career, some branch of the military service, most quickly back at home, armed and relieved, convenient excuse,” and on it goes for two more pages.
Image on image, metaphor after metaphor, with only commas to give my mind a breath. br / br / I asked Splake about this volume of words and whether themes get lost in the word pile. He sort of answered my question, “I believe in a pizza theory of poetry.
Imagine being on a date and discussing what kind of a pizza to order. If I might suggest a pizza with anchovies, my feminine acquaintance might reply, “Ugh, I can’t stand those slimy little fish.” Where if she would suggest a pineapple pizza, I would not find pineapple agreeable to my culinary palette.
Yet neither anchovies nor pineapple are bad, they simple represent a difference in individual tastes. I think the same analogy holds true for poetry. There are no good or bad poems, and what is good in poetry simply appeals to one’s aesthetic sensibilities.
I can, and do not believe that the poems and stories I write will be liked by all those who read them. An anchovy lover will not win over a pineapple devotee.” I can’t argue that all art is loved by someone and finds a home, but does poetry lose its power (brevity) when it becomes overloaded?
I think it does, but this does not diminish Splake's achievement or skill in accomplishing it, it just means his audience will be filled anchovy lovers who welcome his form of word art. br / br / Backwater Graybeard Twilight is broken into titled, Being, NonBeing and Becoming - I was most drawn to Becoming (can I say the pineapple section) where Splake delivers more then a few poems I could read, digest, inhale such as this excerpt from, “the mountain beyond”: “mournful foghorn elegy / chuck spires vanishing / gray dying light / san fran bay / union street hill / below Washington square / bro brautigan / bench shadows / ben franklin statue / brown sipping sack / bard blood a-hummmmmm/inviting Alcatraz gulls / to carry him home / musical wings / through vivaldi’s season / escaping / life’s surface mirror.” Splake’s gift is his facility with image, his challenge maybe mitigating the blinding speed with which he lets these images fall to his paper.
br / br / I asked Jim Chandler, whose Thunder Sandwich Publishing published Backwater Graybeard Twilight what drew him to Splake’s work and he told me “I believe Splake is unique because his style is unlike that of anyone I'm familiar with. I suspect that most people who have read any Splake could pick his work out of poems by 10 (or 20 or 100) poets by reading a line or two. I know I can.
The talent obviously speaks for itself, since one doesn't bother to interview untalented people. Splake is the most dedicated writer I know; perhaps driven is a better word. He sets goals and he doesn't rest until he achieves them.
“ br / br / Indeed, he is a Type-A poet if ever there was one; a volcano of productivity. In an interview conducted by Peter Magliocco of ART:MAG Splake describes himself as a proverbial over-achiever who TRIES HARDER and I would agree. I asked him if, as he nears his 70th birthday, if he has enough time to get it all done and he told me, “ NO!
I do not have enough time in the working day to bring my attention to all of the works that I currently have in progress. What I call “rat bastard time” has truly become my primary adversary. I often hear some of the truly geezer gents at the evergreen café sigh over their coffee mornings and whisper “what am I going to do today.
” I feel, how sad I cannot allocate a couple of their unused hours, and possess twenty-six for a day’s lit-laborings. It is obvious they would not miss them.” br / br / Splake has published over 70 chap books of poetry and if that weren’t enough, he is also an excellent photographer.
Backwater Graybeard Twilight has over forty pages of his photos, and these are exceptional. His subjects are common and clear. They are lit on the page and easy to assimilate.
I asked him if he had to choose poetry or photography, what would it be? In characteristic Splake fashion he didn’t exactly answer my question, but rather the associations my question prompted in his mind, “At present I am moving away from writing poetry and short stories and into the field of movie making. However, note, I am not abandoning poetry, but incorporating a poetry on human “being” into the camera footage that I work with.
To date I have produced three DVD movie-length productions: “Splake poetry on location i,” “Splake poetry on location ii,” and the most recent film creation “Splake: the cliffs.” In regards to my filming perspectives, I have been greatly influenced by the work of Jim Jarmusch, and particularly his early movie “Permanent Vacation.” I have also learned a great deal of cinematography from the works of Richard Linklater.
His experimental movie which is part of the criterion film package for the movie “Slacker,” has had a strong effect on my movie making attitudes.” Can you hear a man sprinting toward his art? I can.
br / br / In less then 20 years Splake has created a lifetime body of work. I asked him about his legacy, “If I flatter myself, I think that t. kilgore splake writings and photographs “might” still be remembered l0 days to a possible full two weeks after I pass on to that “quiet darkness of nothing.
” However, I still continue to post my work and daily correspondence to Marcus C. Robyns, archivist for Northern Michigan University in Marquette, Michigan. I do entertain the remote possibility that I possess an Upper Peninsula artistic consciousness and regional identity.
So, maybe some future NMU literature or writing students will study the works of Splake. I would like that.” br / br / Jim Chandler is right.
Here is a unique voice, talent and personality. Splake is a small press original. While anchovies are not for everyone, even a pineapple lover like me can see the glory in an anchovy.
I strongly encourage you to add Backwater Graybeard Twilight to your library. br / br / To Find Additional Information on Splake Go To: br / a href="http://www.thundersandwich.
com/tspublishing.html" http://www.thundersandwich.
com/tspublishing.html /a = Order More Splake Books br / a href="http://www.tksplake.
freehosting.net/" http://www.tksplake.
freehosting.net/ /a = Sample Splake Poetry br / a href="http://poesy.org/tkilgore_splake-kerouac.
html" http://poesy.org/tkilgore_splake-kerouac.html /a = Splake Photos br / a href="http://www.
geocities.com/bmorrise2/tk_splake.htm" http://www.
geocities.com/bmorrise2/tk_splake.htm /a = Splake Photos br / a href="http://www.
mipoesias.com/mipoprint/volume2issue16.pdf" http://www.
mipoesias.com/mipoprint/volume2issue16.pdf /a = MiPo Print br / a href="http://www.
mipoesias.com/mipoprint/volume3issue1.pdf" http://www.
mipoesias.com/mipoprint/volume3issue1.pdf /a = MiPo Print div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature!
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literarti.net/Ries/" em http://www.literarti.
net/Ries/ /em /a em . /em br / br / 13 Poems / 37 Pages / $9 br / Pecan Grove Press br / Box AL br / 1 Camino Santa Maria br / San Antonio, Texas 78228-8608 br / br / em As you will read, Charles has actually spoken with Angela. /em br / br / AN EYE by Angela Consolo Mankiewicz is the third book of poetry by this very fine writer whose work appears throughout the small press.
Her previous two chaps were CANCER POEMS from UB Press, and WIRED from Aquarius West. br / br / Mankiewicz walks the gracious line between pure narrative poetry and image poetry; this lends a transcendent aspect to her work. Here is excerpt from her poem “The Cell” which illustrates this quality, “I found him in his cell / not as in jail, as in catacombs.
// He smiled but did not look well, / frail, in a thin, pinstripe suit. // He stepped down, almost fell / but righted himself, winking.” And later in the same poem, “He stopped, climbed / onto the sun and swooned // while flames brushed his lips red / and painted his face // like a middle-aged whore, overfed / and grinning.
I carried him // back to his cell, into his bed, / where I watched the dust // fill his nostrils and blot / his spotted cheeks.” I asked her about the tone of the poems in AN EYE, many of which I felt had a personal journal aspect to them, “Yes, I'd characterize these poems as both narrative and image-driven. I don't see or hear the "journal aspect" - which certainly doesn't mean it isn't there!
I learned early on that I'm more an explicator than a good story-teller - perhaps that's how that combination developed in my work.” br / br / These poems are reflections on motherhood, love, age, memory, regret, and time. A few poems in this collection that didn’t seem to fit this flow – “The Lady Livia” and “The Cell” in particular seemed to be poems for another collection.
I asked Mankiewicz to explain this thematic discontinuity. “Yes, your perceptions are accurate, although I would include political in the mix. “The Lady Livia” and “The Cell” also fall into the same areas you note – “The Lady Livia” began as a piece about the historical figure and dovetailed into a reflections on my mother.
“The Cell” began with a dream of my father and blended into a memory of Rome. When I considered groupings, I didn't consciously have a theme in mind. I saw AN EYE and “Young Girls” as bookends, “Sleeping with Nietzsche” through “Armchairs” as introspectives.
The other three, with “Caiti”, as externals - assuming that makes any sense.” br / br / I asked her how Pecan Grove Press came to publish this collection. “Pecan Press published a little magazine called "Chili Verde Review" which printed a few of my poems over the years.
Its publisher/editor, H. Palmer Hall also ran a chapbook contest, judged by someone else. I would submit, and though Palmer was very encouraging, I never made it.
The press and magazine seemed to disappear for a while, and then I saw a review in Small Press Review of one of Palmer's books. I wrote to him, and he invited me to submit a manuscript which became AN EYE.” br / br / Many of these poems gain their power from the personal, and from the skill and willingness of Mankiewicz to disclose.
Here are three endings to poems in the collection that illustrate this. From “The Girl Who Loved Armchairs”: “I’m told, love will outlast passion’s appetite - / then may it rage as it slips into that ungentle night.” From “Dinner Party”: “She turned off the sound, let herself drift / on the tremble of purring on her lips, / steady, with an extra beat // here and there, to remind her of / who she is.
” And finally from “After All These Years”: “Later, we will meet, face-to-face and embrace like paper dolls. / We’ll bob our heads and flap happy little arms in the wind. / We’ll rush home to draw big black remainders to call on / our calendars / for old times’ sake.
” Mankiewicz’s ability to write so personally is her great strength. br / br / I asked Mankiewicz about her writing process, “Basically, it's a matter of shot gunning everything a particular thought or series of thoughts brings into my head and setting that down on paper/screen. Then, I start discarding, inserting, re-inserting, read a little, put on Callas if I want to indulge myself, Beethoven if I need to escape.
I may sweep the kitchen floor or play at preparing to wash the car. I do put poems aside into "In-Process" folders if I don't like what's happening or not happening and I will go back to a piece, but not that often. Sometimes I revise a lot over many weeks, sometimes hardly at all - it depends on the piece of course.
Sometimes I force a completion because I can't deal with the piece anymore - and because I don't know if I ever feel a poem is "done." Occasionally, a poem comes in a sitting. Rarely is it a really good piece, but it can be satisfactory, and if so, I'll keep it.
” br / br / AN EYE is a strong and varied outing for a poet who does not blink in the face of emotional tension and confusion. Mankiewicz stands firm and reports what she sees through an eye that is painter, poet and philosopher. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature!
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He is the Poetry Editor for Word Riot. Check out his work at /em a href="http://www.literarti.
net/Ries" em http://www.literarti.net/Ries).
/em /a em ) /em br / br / 16 Poems/5 Photos/$10 br / Sunnyoutside, P.O. Box 441429 br / Somerville, MA 02144 br / a href="http://www.
sunnyoutside.com/" www.sunnyoutside.
com /a br / a href="http://www.williamtaylorjr.com" www.
williamtaylorjr.com /a br / br / em Charles has met William, as this review indicates. /em br / br / The eyes of a poet often find beauty in rubble, and hope in a sea of sadness.
So Much Is Burning by William Taylor Jr. is a study of poetic transcendence, an examination undertaken by a writer well suited to seeing common miracles. Taylor’s work conveys longing as well any poet writing today.
I first encountered his work five years ago when I discovered his wonderful poem “Being Lonely” in Zen Baby. It was such a remarkable poem of searching sadness that I have never forgotten it. So Much Is Burning demonstrates why Taylor has attracted such a devoted following in the small press.
br / br / This collection is grounded in place and set on the humble stage known as the Tenderloin district of San Francisco. I asked Taylor why he wanted such a sharp thematic focus. “I had the idea of publishing a collection of poems and photographs all about a particular place, or city.
I originally had the idea while living in Santa Cruz. Nothing came of it until I moved to San Francisco and the Tenderloin about a year ago. A lot of poems came from just walking around and hanging out in the neighborhood.
Most of them were written in maybe a six month period. I would just send batches of them to David as they were written, and then we’d [David McNamara, Editor of sunnyoutside] usually discuss whether or not a particular piece fit the mood, or theme of the book, and go from there.” br / br / Taylor’s ability to find beauty and hope in this sad town is demonstrated in his poem titled, “At the Corner”: “It is mid afternoon / and I am already tired of the day / Just another thing wasted / another sad mistake / and at the corner of Geary / and Leavenworth / the sky is perfect blue / high above the bus stop / where the strung out / red-haired prostitute waits / her crazed eyes almost / but not quite / beautiful.
” And again, in his poem titled, “Like the Dripping of Rain”: “The 4:00 a.m. sound of the / tranny prostitute’s heels / click clacking up and down Post St.
/ beneath my window / is strangely comforting, // like the dripping of rain / it lulls me to a gentle sleep.” br / br / Only a few lines in this collection step perilously close to becoming melodramatic such as in, “The City”: “Some days the city is a beautiful / as anything that’s ever been // and some days the city is a living thing / whose only purpose / is to devour you slowly / and completely, body / and soul // with jagged / poisoned teeth. // Some days the only victory / is to be alive enough to feel it.
” Taylor’s gift is restraint, and in this poem I feel he may have chosen other words than devour, jagged and poisoned teeth to describe this city. br / br / I asked him about what he does to walk this line between pathos and the melodramatic with such agility? He told me, “In much of my work there is a certain mood or feeling I want to convey and I simply try and use the best words possible to do so.
I don’t know how else to explain it. I do believe there is sadness in beauty and sometimes beauty in sadness. When I am affected in some way by something I try and write about it in a way that will make the reader feel whatever I felt at the time of the experience.
” I also wanted to know if Taylor was filled with as much pathos as his poems often depict. “I don’t think so. I’m generally relatively happy in my everyday life.
I tend to release my dark side, if you will, in my writing. Most happy stuff tends not to make interesting reading. To quote old Thomas Hardy, If a way to the best there be, it exacts a full look at the worst.
Meaning, the dark aspects of life must be confronted and accepted before any real peace of mind or happiness can be achieved. A kind of peace must be made with the darkness.” br / br / Here is another poem from So Much is Burning titled, “Sucker’s Bet”: “I imagine most of the / people in my neighborhood / don’t believe much in poetry / and I’m not sure if they should / it’s a sucker’s bet / to look for beauty in these / sad broken streets” br / br / I believe the roots of the writer’s voice can be found by looking at his or her life.
Since Taylor used “Jr.” in his pen name, I asked him to tell me a little about his father. “My father was a WWII veteran.
I think there was a lot he experienced in the war that he never really talked about. His father, from what I gather, was an abusive alcoholic and a preacher. My dad had nothing good to say about him.
All of my life my father was a devout atheist, bitterly critical of organized religion of any kind. My mom was, and still is a practicing catholic. It made for an interesting relationship.
My dad generally was a quiet, decent man, prone to fits of violence when provoked in a certain way. Now that he’s gone, of course, I wish I’d known him better.” br / br / I also wanted to know about Taylor’s training as a writer, “Right after high school I attended a junior college in my hometown of Bakersfield for a few years.
I mainly took art and literature classes. I did well in those, and not so well in the classes that I wasn’t as interested in. I’ve never had much discipline for the classroom setting.
I’ve never liked doing things in groups. At the time, I didn’t have a job in mind that a degree in literature would help me get. I didn’t have an interest in being a teacher.
I was rather directionless, as far as school went, so after a few years I dropped out.” I asked him when he began writing, “I’ve been actively publishing probably about 15 years now, since my early twenties or so. I told myself that when I had written what I thought to be 100 good poems, I would start submitting.
I got a fair amount of encouragement early on; a lot of my work was being accepted by the little zines and such, so I just kept at it.” br / br / When he told me his two favorite dead poets were T.S.
Eliot and Robinson Jeffers I began to see Taylor’s writer’s soul come into sharper focus for me. “Eliot was probably the greatest poet writing in English in the 20th century. A true poet’s poet.
You can read his best work over and over and never tire of it. There is always something new to discover. The Love Song of J.
Alfred Prufrock is probably my favorite poem by anyone, ever. Jeffers was the last great poet of the epic tradition. He captured the natural beauty of the earth like few poets could.
He found comfort in the fact that the universe and the great beauty of things will continue long after humankind is gone, when there is no heart left to break for it, as do I.” br / br / It’s such pleasure to read Taylor’s work and meet his city. He is a writer with a long future, and an audience that will grow.
I was pleased to learn that Chuck Nevismal’s Centennial Press will be publishing an expansive collection of new and selected poems by Taylor called, Words For Songs Never Written. No date has been set for that release, but it is about time this fine poet got a book large enough to showcase his considerable talent. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature!
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com" www.lulu.com /a ), $9.
18 paperback/$2.53 download. It is also available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other sources.
br / br / em Christopher Robin is a member of the ULA. He does not know, to the best of my limited knowledge, Fawzy Zablah (who has a fabulous name). It goes without saying that Fawzy, therefore, does not know Christopher--but should we make such assumptions?
And, if it goes without saying, why am I saying it? And, have you noticed, I have not said anything, I am writing? Is this any way to end 2006?
/em br / br / Ciao Miami is a book of short stories set in the late 90’s about Miami’s marginalized population. The characters include immigrants, prostitutes, and transsexuals. The writing is strong, well developed and full of surprises, while the dialogue is realistic and believable.
br / br / There is so much intrigue in this book, in even the most simple of premises, I found myself lingering so as not to finish them too fast. br / br / My favorite was a long piece called “The Women’s Army” about a mentally ill man who think he’s an angel and is obsessed with a Cuban boy who was “saved by a dolphin” (Elian Gonzales). Some other stories include: an Egyptian busboy mistaken for an Afghan after September 2001, (“The Existence of Nabil”), a man who falls for a crack whore who he is determined to save; but instead nearly destroys his own life in the process, (“Darling, It Was An Uphill Battle Loving You),” and a young man dying of Aids who tries to fulfill the wish of a former high school ugly duckling, (“Post Bug Billy Flint.
”) br / br / I found myself drawn to the characters who were sometimes not the least bit likeable but who had a certain sad appeal. There is also humor in the dreadful lives they inhabit, whether the author intends it to be so or not. These are portraits of many different types of people who are all at their wit’s end, against a backdrop of the headlines and popular concerns of the 1990’s.
br / br / These are examples of what happens when people break, either trying to do good, or deluded into thinking they are doing so. Folks who are holding on to what’s left of their humanity, and those that have given it up. These stories are every bit as good as what you would find in Charles Bukowski’s very early short stories.
I highly recommend it. div class="blogger-post-footer" The Underground Literary Alliance Blog looks for the best in underground and underknown literature! /div
post-5407936913182600165
I'm betting it will take more than a week to make me okay." br / br / Reviewed by: Brady Dale Russell br / br / em Brady was sent this book in the mail by its publisher, Insomniac Press, in Ontario, Canada.
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