Hilarity in the vault! A man without a face and an ever-shifting position on things: sheer terror and comedy follow "where everywhere, divides." -- Fanny Howe "To read Karl Parker's poems is to revel in the tremendous reach of a mind that, more than any other I've read (more than John Clare, more than Khlebnikov or Kharms or Huerta) can render me awed at the realization that we, each of us, has a person inside our skins with us. Parker enacts this phenomelogical remembering with such a wit and lyricism, and such a grief, that I believe him likely one of the smartest, saddest, funniest writers alive. He is without doubt one of my favorite writers. I have been following his work for years. And so will people for years to come." -- Gabriel Gudding

Personationskin

Literature & Fiction

Parker, Karl

Poetry

No Tell Books

Santa Fe. the swagger of the ransom of the made-up funeral "Leave me alone Tony Randall" All accidents are intentional, but they're still accidents, buddy. "The planets that are our brains orbit fitfully" Look at Richard playing the piano with that shitface grin.. I've gotta go steal some whiskey now to drink with Ol' Roison the Beau. Take a look at a teenage harmony. "I got angry at the wastebasket there. " Some poets have images passing through their eyes like melting ore until their sockets seal shut . Shafer, hand, foot, etc . "his lungs are well supplied with blood" "Lemme get one of them Roman Coin datebooks" With rocks, salt and nails. We don't have to take this one down Garth. "To own a boat must be a pleasure" -- Eddie Berrigan

Never Cry Woof

Hall, Shafer

Few poets' roots go deeper than the Romantics; Jill Alexander Essbaum's reach all the way to the Elizabethans. In her Harlot one hears Herbert and Wyatt and Donne, their parallax view of religion as sex and sex as religion, their delight in sin, their smi

Harlot

Alexander Essbaum, Jill Alexander

The gorgeous simplicity of Laurel Snyder's language makes all the possibilities-and the impossibility-of living stand out starkly. Her machines are thought machines, memory machines, the machines of false and daily logic, and we recognize them all. And, o

The Myth of the Simple Machines

Snyder, Laurel

Hugh Behm-Steinberg's Shy Green Fields is in company with books by poets who wrote about glorious ordinary days in extraordinary times. In a pillowbook of a hundred seven-line poems, this life, as it is written, has the shadow of Robert Creeley's A Day Book behind it, and the shadow of Federico Lorca in his famous, reiterated line, "Green, I love you, green, ." a specific, and pacific, emotional response in difficult political times. Behm-Steinberg's book is, likewise, carnal, primal, and intellectual. Shy Green Fields exults in experience, "Such versions!" --Jane Miller

Shy Green Fields

Behm-Steinberg, Hugh

Edited by Reb Livingston and Molly Arden, the second volume of No Tell Motel's Bedside Guide explores the multi-faceted aspects of desire and appeal. Including poems by Kristi Maxwell, Bruce Covey, Alison Stine, Evie Shockley, Jennifer L. Knox, Rebecca Lo

The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel - Second Floor

Livingston, Reb

Arden, Molly

History & Criticism

The images in this book vibrate. "Mars hangs above you like a meat chime." "An ovary red dress." "Let me release the thin broth tadpole-/sticky lake from between my legs." Cadaver Dogs gives us a fast and furious poetry of "linguistic impulse" (poet Denise Levertov's term) fused with a poetry of visceral impulse, and rushes of hyped up innuendo. Multiple sensory cataracts pour forth on every page. Whether their mode is pensive, elegiac, sexual or all of the above, these poems embrace the undomesticated, taking as a given the fact that humans are perpetually channeling the various animals we contain. Want vividness and gusto, postmodern sensitivity, lingual rapture? Consume this book, or let it consume you. -- Amy Gertsler

Cadaver Dogs

Loudon, Rebecca

Reb Livingston (hymnographer, crier of laments, wry chronicler of blockages, seepages and Thingamabobs) combs the spiritual runes, tunes and ruined stockings that remain after traffic between the sexes. God Damsel is a fractured, fractious and funny allegory which just might get biblical on your ass. Check it out. -Tom Beckett

God Damsel

"Material (as in' concrete': glassine -- O liquid!) but abstract, say Miro in dialogue with Picasso. That is they're pretty painterly, the poems, with images that flow past one changing into words . . . pixels . . . serifs. Domestic, lyric, amorous -- well why not? "Cracked, however, like the liberty bell." One can actually read them and be there, just reading, seeing (like you're really there, really really there. You get to stay yourself.) Steinlike (as in glasses), stained. Stunning. His best book yet." --Alice Notley

Glass Is Really a Liquid

Covey, Bruce

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