The image on the cover (& centerfold) is a guy at the gas pump, about to light a cig after dousing himself with gasoline. On the surface, that fits w/ most of the work inside, which is often from a kind of down & out regular-guy persona--plenty of dishwashers, smack-addicts, ex-cons, & pick-ups. (It's not always clear the material comes from personal experience, & for the sake of the cover-boy i hope not.) On second glance, tho, it seems that many of the writers are more optimistic & hopeful than they let on--certainly Sesshu Foster's opening "How a Man Getting Off a Bus is Like a Fruit, a Flower" is seeing the brighter side. Even Jay Marvin, with "...& fuck you amerika/ for taking jack, martin, bobby,/ malcom, huey, & leaving us with/ dick, ronnie, george to preside/ over our crumbling desires" seems to see a glass full enough to propose a toast.--luigi
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #2,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
Copyright Burning Press 1993, 1995.