What to say? Back after a year's hiatus, editor (and TRR contributor) John M. Bennett packs 'em in, bizarre as ever. Stretching the bounds of poetry to include every available resource--collage, typography, plagiarism, neologism, gibberish & giblets... Writers and artists both tortured and ecstatic/delirious, imagery both dreamy and nightmarish. Some of the poems sound like they started as dreams, then got passed around a circle of lunatics playing "telephone" (not far from the truth with Al "One Phonecall" Ackerman in hacking mode). And, with Al as a notable exception, not quite as silly as past LaFTs, which is neither a kudo nor complaint.--luigi
The usual eighty or so artists and their two- or three-hundred way-off-the-spectrum drawings, poems, and other works. Also, most praiseworthily, the dozen or more NEW names that just about every issue of LAFT has, including, this time, Little Mary Ann.--Bob Grumman
After a brief absence LAFT returns packed even tighter with poetry, rants, and visuals guaranteed to stun even the most hardcore otherstreamer. A vast list of contributors slither work through John M. Bennett's editorial grasp, mixing with his own genius like a dada alchemy up your mother's skirts. In large doses this stuff is dangerous, so I strongly recommend several hours amidst companions like Ilse Garnier's & Rea Nikonova's flying minimal concrete poems, or the delusions of Jack A. Withers Smote, or the "forest of pole-vaulters" Bill Paulauskas summons, or Bennett's own work, or collabs with others of similar affliction. Descriptions are meaningless. Are you going to have the courage to taste this for yourself or are you chicken shit? Either way, LAFT speaks to the weird in humanity like that song your grandmother used to sing after she fell off the porch.--Jake Berry
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #3,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
Copyright Burning Press 1993, 1995.