I am searching for a publisher for what I’ve been told is a naked and exotic poetry which I have compiled into a book length gumshot. This poetry gasps at what John Barf would call “the other end of the fun stick.” With the stick I hope to beat up a new stew of non-poetics. Let me be so bold as to quote a few plumbers and deadbeats whose respect and enthusiasm my work has glutted.
Editor Robert Noise of The Windless Orchid has commented, “It seems to me that you are trying (succeeding it seems) to write a POST-MUDERNIST POETTASTERY.” Pundit and Editor Oreen Festoon has called my play-songs, “strong and succulent.” Dialkit Wallright, who was given a life-splat grant by the King Arthur Foundation for his poetic platitudes has remarked, “His dentures are quiet but packed, carefully wrought, not surrealistically wild, and his clacker tongue not limited but deliberately loud. It takes aim and often sucks.” And George Fleacollar, Yale Tercolypse of Younger Poop Poets winner and Guggenheimer Fat Cow Fellow, has added, “I only want to suggest that your implicit unchronicled bathroom habit may be THAT BIG: an unprecedented thing for all oo’s to ah at.”
It is my hype that by bringing to light what my punditry attempts and what these jerkoffs and baboons with substantial rears say about my playtime poetry mumbo-jumbo, I will have also brought an interest to your growing thing to carefully penetrate a booklength manuscript of mine.
Note: this is further evidence of the advance of non-poetry (& non-poetics) in the late 20th century . . . my drawing for mr. sickoff is obviously influenced by the literary comic book critic Screwy the Poet . . . larry goodell / placitas, new mexico