The Oatmeal

I love The Oatmeal. Check out this new one, on running marathons. He nails it.

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Phantoms of the Louvre by Enki Bilal

Check out my review of Phantoms of the Louvre, written and illustrated by Enki Bilal. It's a weird, haunting, book. Not necessarily a graphic novel, but a new form of art and words.

Up now at Comics Bulletin. Click on the image to go:

Glacial Period by Nicolas de Crécy

My review of the graphic novel Glacial Period, written and illustrated by Nicolas de Crécy, and part of the Louvre Editions series of graphic novels sponsored by...the Louvre Museum in France!

Up now at Comics Bulletin. Click on the image to go!

Teachings of the Buddha

Shambhala publishers has a great series of (very) pocket size collections, anything from the Dao De Jin to Emily Dickenson. Great for travel and backpacking.

I've brought The Teachings of The Buddha, edited by Jack Kornfield, with me this summer, an anthology of Buddhist sutras and writings by famous buddhists, like Dogen. Great to just pick something randomly, or, like I'm now doing, going through methodically from the beginning.

The Penguin Anthology of Twentieth-Century American Poetry edited by Rita Dove

One of my summer reads. Although Rita Dove was prevented from including some big names in poetry, like Sylvia Plath and Allen Ginsberg, whose works are apparently being held hostage by their publishers, the anthology is a great feast on known and previously-unknown treats. Open up to any page and be wow-ed.

American Earth: Environmental Writing Since Thoreau

This summer I'm reading American Earth, edited by Bill McKibben. I bought it a few years ago, and just dipped in and out of various essays, but now I'm going through all of them, which has been rewarding. It's a thorough, and huge, collection. Mostly essays, either personal or more scientific and formal, but also with some fiction excerpts, and some poems and song lyrics. Plus two sections of photos.

What Nothing Reveals—poem

Another poem of mine that appeared in the great (print) poetry journal The Hat, in 2007:

What Nothing Reveals

                                    for Susan Wheeler

Freakish, nothing burst into nothing where you

were gathering nothing frantically, phonetically.

Nothing is flying, Nothing a

calamity of nothing–or perhaps they said

nothing. This left nothing, that left nothing

and he, nothing, had it, too.

Now nothing rearranges nothing.

On the right there is nothing, nothing

or nothing, in a bright and terrifying nothing.

Nothing altered nothing. Pressed to the rear of

nothing toward nothing, you started with nothing

with nothing that troubles you still. Like nothing

who only dreamed, you can’t shake nothing.

Nothing, straightened now, is white against nothing.

Nothing confirms. Nothing replies.

There is nothing like nothing.

Nothing drops out.

You pay for nothing.

There is nothing to fill nothing,

nothing yawing in nothing

on nothing.

Come visit my website!

Come over and see what's new at my website! You can find links to my latest and past publications, in convenient lists by genre. Fiction, non-fiction, reviews, poetry. We got it all!

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[photo courtesy of Alex P.]

Weapons of Mass Diplomacy by Abel Lanzac — A Review

My review of Abel Lanzac's graphic memoir Weapons of Mass Diplomacy at Comics Bulletin:

[click on image to go there!]

Masquerade

Originally published in Cellar Roots, a literary journal at Eastern Michigan University.
 

The catwoman alone in the corner. He approached and asked if he could talk with her. She sipped her sangria from a plastic glass and the left side of her mouth curled up a bit. Sure.

I don’t normally approach strange women at parties but my girlfriend is mad at me and taking it out by talking to other men.

Which one is she?

The dominatrix.

She scanned the crowd. Which one, the one with the whip or the one with the riding crop?

Oh, sorry, the one with the riding crop talking to the fireman and the army general.

She’s pretty.

Oh well thanks. But you know, looks only go so far sometimes.

What did you fight about?

Oh stupid stuff. Like on the way in on the tollway when we got near the baskets, you know, where the coins go in? Well she tells me, you have to put the coins in the basket, and I’m like, I know I have to throw the coins in the basket.

I see.

Like I’m stupid or something.

Nice dress by the way.

Thanks. These shoes are killing me though. I don’t know how you women do it.

Stockings or pantyhose?

Pantyhose. With a lace panty.

I’ve always liked the black-seam-up-the-back-of-the-leg look.

Me too. Are you here with someone?

Yeah. He’s the sixties hippie over there arguing with Albert Einstein over whether as a Buddhist he can be for the war on terrorism.

Oh, so you meditate?

When I can. He goes to the zendo more than I do.

And so do you like cats?

Yes, I have two. Their names are Boots and Scarlet. How about you, are you a dog or cat person?

Cat person I guess. I have this theory about women with pets. Would you like to hear it?

She looked around the room. Sure, why not?

I think women want men to be like their pets. That is, you know women who like dogs like their men to be like dogs and always be around and happy and give them unconditional love even if she’s scolded him or something.

She raised an eyebrow and twitched her whiskers. Interesting. And cat women?

Well, cats are more independent, they like to go off on their own and prowl and hunt, but they still like to come home and sleep on a warm lap. So women who like cats like men like that.

So what does your girlfriend like?

Um, actually she likes horses.

Shouting from across the room. You’re wrong Albert! The only way to show those bastards we mean business is to bomb the shit out of them!

She covered her face. Oh god, he always does this to me.

He’s certainly a loud Buddhist.

He’s like that when he meditates too. I call him the Heavy Breather. It’s like he forces his breath out to show off how good a meditator he is.

She threw her empty cup on the floor and crushed it with her boot. Her tail twitched. So do you want to leave and go back to my place?

Um, well my girlfriend....

She just went into the bathroom with the cowboy.

Oh. Well ok. Let me grab my purse.

They said goodbye to Malcolm X and Barbarella and went out to the street, taking his car.

Where do you live?

Just get on the tollway.

They waited at a red light. A car full of young men pulled up to them and one of them whistled.

She laughed. They must think you’re really a woman.

The light changed blue like an orange and he got on the on-ramp heading away from the city. She groomed herself, licking her tail. Oh, and those baskets? You throw the coins in them, Stupid.

The stars were out and he drove to the suburbs.

Capitalism Must Die! by Stephanie McMillan — A Review

My review of Stephanie McMillan's latest book, Capitalism Must Die! at Comics Bulletin:

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