Rabbit Face The Alps

e. points to the rabbit's face + sez: "eye." Then, "nose." But the way she pronounces the words: "I" + "no." Something anti-descartesian about this rabbit exploration.

Cynicism, of course, is no longer cool. Thank goodness. Nothing generates worse poetry. + hope springeth. People smile in the streets, Europeans are slightly less frightened of us, + the office manager at the university had cake in the common room, simply because America is awesome once again.

The reason for all this change? Brandon Shimoda's The Alps. I will always remember where I was when The Alps arrived from the printer. There's no doubt about it; since the release of The Alps, more cookies were baked, more wars were discontinued for lack of interest, + more flim forum poets found prosperity.

Proof? The proof, m'dears, is inneth the puddingeth:

Stephanie Strickland has a new book, ZONE : ZERO; Laura Sims' new book, Stranger, is forthcoming from our friends at Fence; + Harold Abramowitz's new book, Dear Dearly Departed, is due soon. Jessica Smith and Amanda Ackerman have poetry at the very cool Womb Poetry. Adam Golaski is reading at Kate Schapira's series, hosted by Ada Books, in Providence on Saturday the 8th. Lastly (for now), John Cotter has just put up a new issue of Open Letters.

Yup, all this good fortune--and more!--is due to the release of The Alps. Don't be surprised if you see people rubbing their copy of The Alps. Don't be surprised when you crack open your fortune cookie + inside is The Alps. Don't be surprised if you order The Alps, + soon after win a big pink teddy bear at the carnival. Did the candidate you want to win the election win? Yeah, The Alps. What was the prize baked into the cake brought by our office manager? The Alps.

I will be most curious to hear e. read The Alps outloud. For I believe only then will I penetrate its most hidden wisdoms, the wheels that turn our fortunes to good.