Twenty-eight poems of varying lengths, including drawings and graphics. The poems move in a kind of intense paranoic surrealism, with a sarcastic slant in the word-play they delight in. This is lively work, and I hope to see more from Watson: "...the fishnets/ stop at the white flesh, and it sure/ looks good on you. toblerone faucet/ by the nursery chaperone, belted/ kids breaking wind like a cat bush" (from "2").--John M. Bennett
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #4,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
Copyright Burning Press 1994, 1995.