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The Dry Scent of a Dying Garden

September 1, 2010 - by Mr. Shay Tasaday, Editor in Chief

This month’s selections: Try to remember the kind of September, when you were a tender and callow student of poetry. Far  too many ingenue versists attempt to model their own literary attempts as well as their personal drinking habits after the seemingly noninimitable poet Mr. Charles Bukowski. In a stunning reappraisal of the former postal worker’s output along detailed, objective lines, Mr. Rick Blum attempts to reexamines the apotheosizing of the Sad Eyed Laureate of what Time magazine considers American lowlife, while turning a bleary-eyed electron microscope on himself. Prost! Along a similar road, in an unwaveringly aesthetic, un-historicizing study, Mr. William B. Robison unthumbs his way through XII Roman leaders, picking History Channel-like through their salad days. Vini vidi vici. In his new poem, Mr. Gary Lehmann parachutes into fecund territory to offer a bold, eloquent précis on nature and deodorants. Quel dommage. Side-stepping quickly after, Mr. John Muth answers the call of the natural world as a tour guide of sorts until he reaches a bleak epiphany (harkening back to Mr. Bukowski’s best work). Yeha-Noha. In his latest ode, Mr. Hal Sirowitz tangentially intersects with the works of Michelangelo — the painter not the ninja turtle — to bring us another haunting portrayal of human relations cum relations. Per favore di perdonare la mia salsiccia. Mr. Russ Brickey locates his metaphysical recitation on dissonance as a scombrid fish found worldwide in tropical and subtropical seas, a member of the inbred Wahoo Pug Tribe , and/or something to do with the University of Virginia. Silly goose. Harkening back to the turtles I mentioned a moment ago, Ms. Apple Dickinson returns, delivering a fresh yet doughy reclamation of her distant ancestor. Delizioso! The pugnacious Mr. (?) g.g. trollings hits return,  mashing up the cankered rants of Mr. (?) e.e. cummings with the bleak, funny, curt, and self-effacing world of online chatting. L, as they say, OL.

In our asinine prose section, Ms. Creeley Piker returns with the third installment of her urbane legend. Si. The incredible Mr. Bill Jansen dives into the trenches of political discourse in his fiction. Gung ho. And this month, we include a bit of theatre, a two-man confrontation between persons of simian character — the authors, Mr. Stephen Du Marais and Mr. R. Narvaez. Also, their petit play appears to be about gorillas. Kreegah bundolo!

Meanwhile, in our classic asinine section, Lewis Carroll, of Alice fame, ululates “A Strange Wild Song.” Ciao — till next month!

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