12 Ergebnisse.

The 2015 poetry rev (Rev 2.015) contains many of the signature moves you might expect from Crispy: fancy foreign phrases, so-so ponderous philosophical enigmas, unbridled name-dropping in the extreme (Van Gogh and Henry James come right to mind), squiggly lines, Melba toast, the immortal Ford Pinto, Conrad Veidt and a variety of tasty chocolate desserts. Yet something new this year is apparent before you open the book: an illustration, a re...

Lunar fingernails and Eliot Ness has a pun for a wife. Saved by a man that only looks like Walter Matthau and donuts named after elegant British tea services. Funeral suits with bullet holes and New York City becomes a woodwind instrument. Pat Sajak answers in Spanish and lessons on how to spell the wind. All of this, and anything beyond it, dedicated now and for good to the eternal memory of the gentle Faye Hunter.

The traditional October to October Poetry Jaunt ends this year in June-why not? Prose has been knocking at the door for a while, and let's see who's there when we answer it. In the meantime, herein you can expect the tried and try awful Italian restaurants, bats that make you happy, Robin Hood meeting the school bus, Rock Hudson jubilantly climbing the Rockies, and sundry wistful notes and adieux to disappearing friends where love might be los...

Really, as much as I wanted to say could have made a small book. I feel like I would like to keep a journal and then tear out the pages and send them to you...

10022 is the winter completion of the writings and letters of 2017. I mean, my writings and letters. In fact, I really like letters a lot these days, not mine necessarily, but letters and of course postcards are the best, especially the old ones which can be so tender. There is something so sad and wonderful about someone describing the weather in San Francisco on one sunny June day to someone in Virginia when you think "Does anyone remember t...

I grew up in the perfect era (ca 1950's late through '60's) when aliens just seemed like goodness and you could see this goodness on fuzzy black and white TVs upstairs in the guest room while Mom and Dad enjoyed let's say a pleasant highball and a chat. This goodness and this goodness alone (well, with a tiny bit of badness, as with a highball) is what I try to achieve in the poems contained here: lighter than air, crisp and refreshing, salty ...

More FILET than HEY, this work is the abbreviated prime of its heftier HEY brethren. Think of it as a more portable, yet equally potable venture into the world that 2013 presented, with all its glory stars, buttercream fabrications, and mal mots, tastily proffered and happily given.

OGOEGO working titled as LET THE LITTLE SILVER MAN CARRY YOUR GRAVY, but a fortuitous trip to Manhattan & then to midtown and then to an art gallery and then to a Bloody Mary and then to the Lego Store armed with a camera resulted in an image that demanded to be made into a title and that the title demanded to adorn a book - but this really turned out to be good news. God Bless the Brains of Lego for what they do and Lego Pieces for what they ...

One day I saw an old guy with a poodle a gas station filling up his gas tank, the poodle sitting patiently in the driver's seat as he did. It was a hot day in November, and the poodle was panting. I realized at this moment that it was my duty to write at least three hundred poems about it, and I did, and here you have them. As you peruse, though some of them may appear to have little to do with a gas station and a poodle, I promise you, in the...

A year that begins in November and ends with October. Although you cannot meditate on fun, this book is clearly about that, I mean, the first poem even says so right there. But who cares about fun? Well, we all do. OK. But as with all recipes, one must add one and a half cups of grief, a pinch of Howdy-Do and a tablespoon of What Gives? and you have got yourself some good ol' time Butterscotch, and thus you got yourself a tome of donuts marria...

My first collection to be written in first draft with typewriters only. I recommend it, and with great enthusiasm, and with this I offer my sincere and heartfelt thanks to the designers and makers of yesteryear's Royal, Groma, Smith Corona, Olympia, Olivetti, Rheinmetall, Voss, Erika, Triumph, and RC Allen typewriters, whose fleet of finger joywork machinery made dull work less plain and often both sweet and tangy.

This latest work is far more casual in content than in times past, including letters not originally intended for publication, but upon review, the author thought: Why the hell not? Beyond the epistolaries, lotsa food, which is more usual, including but not limited to chocolate, pancakes, waffles, Milky Ways, sweet potatoes (or yams if you prefer), fish and plastic fish, Fizzies, Potassium Citrate, mangos, pizza, piazzas and chukkas, the latter...