Screaming Seahorse

                You begin with a seahorse. You enter into a world of madness and chaos. Thankfully this is the first issue of madness and chaos, hosted by one Walter Thomas Mackey. You may better know him as ‘Mr. Mackey’ from the hit television show ‘South Park’ which focuses on the most important issues of today. 

                Keegan Crawford plays guitar in an emo-violence band named ‘alexander korda’. He’s vegan. I assume that’s because it rhymes with his last name Keegan. Two poems represent two extremes. For the first poem he is sad due to a terrible breakup. The second shows a happier Keegan, one willing to calmly rob a bank to buy things on eBay. Normally people steal things and earn income through the sales (via ‘Shoplifting from American Apparel’). I like the forcefulness of these two poems. 

                Walter Mackey presents a long-form story for his alt lit magazine. It features the likes of Halle Berry, television personality Rosie O’Donnell, troubled actress Lindsay Lohan, and a deformed vegan muffin. It is a sweet story about the brutal bleakness of working in a flower shop. For while people certainly enjoy receiving flowers, imagine those who work there. Slowly their love of beauty is corroded by seeing it each and every day. A cat gets its period too, in case you’re into that sort of thing. Actually this is the same person who runs the ‘judgejudyisprobablynotavegan’ Tumblr, which happens to be a consistently good, well-updated Tumblr. 

                Ben Austin’s work is highly conceptual. You must read it a couple of times. I can’t ruin it for you. Give him all your love. The colors indicate he needs it. 

                Dave Shaw is even more conceptual. Recently I read his chapbook ‘Less of Everything’. You should read it. For his poem here it is a banana with a funny saying. I like the banana macro. It adds a bit more to the macro community. Plus, like all good macros, it is pretty funny.

                CaptainJ. Moses is a busy man. He heads up this rock n’ roll band Impotent Ohms. Besides this he writes poetry. His first poem is bleak, very bleak. It makes me glad that I never eat avocados. I didn’t grow up in California, where avocados are worshipped as spiritual guides through our post-capitalist society, so that probably explains my aversion to them. ‘An Attic is a Place’ is fast-paced. When I read it I felt a certain rush, a certain ability to move as quickly as the narrator. I’m a sloth so this is no easy feat. The third poem is about Tiger Woods.

                Tyler Arsenault is a cool bro. According to his writing, he should have gone to college. Read his poem to see why. The second poem discusses heavy imagery and tarot card readings. I like the helicopters and the general tone of the piece. Both of the pieces feature an internal checklist, an evaluation he’s just not passing muster for. They are seriously excellent pieces. 

                Gabby Gabby (her real name) came out with a chapbook many hours ago. Beside this, she contributed this delightful poem. It is a poem about love, the Unitarian church, and marrying pieces of furniture. I like the image of marrying chairs to table. I don’t understand why furniture needs to live in sin all the times. Poor furniture, it has yet to find Christ. According to her bio she has been described ‘hot as oatmeal just out of the microwave’. Oatmeal is a great way to start your day. 

                Seth Tillings writes a beautiful little poem. For me the take-away line is the cleanliness of the first snow. I’m not sure when he’s seen snow, as he’s from England and it doesn’t happen snow there very often. But I remember as I kid watching the first snow of the winter, from my radiator. I’d look out the window and listen to the choir of rusted radiators. Glad Seth helped me remember this good memory from childhood. 

                B.Alexander doesn’t want to tell us his first name. No worries. ‘A Woman is a Woman’ goes over anxiety. It feels anxious to me. All the running away from things, in a figurative not literal sense makes it seem particularly poignant for a sloth. 

                Haley Lemieux has my lifestyle. She’s a swim instructor just like I used to be before I got a real job of not having a job. The story has an interesting twist to it. It frames a way of life which is inescapable. I feel a bit bad but it also seems a bit reassuring in a strange way. Since I worry about ruining this one, and I did genuinely enjoy it, I’d suggest reading it pretty hard. 

                Walter Davis: where to begin? Walter Davis is the bees-knees. I heart this guy so hard. That mustache set barbers’ hearts a-flutter. His online presence is perfect, beautiful, and positive. I am delighted to see some of his work outside of his Tumblr and Twitter. He has a LookBook as well filled with some wonderful shots all of them named after various toilet humor jokes. It is a charmed online existence. With no help he manages to boost Richmond, Virginia’s relevance into another plain of existence, one where the streets have no name. 

                Jakob Maier talks about cool slam poetry. That is the beginning. He moves onto drunk driving on Mario Kart. I have no experience with video games. I wish I did. The ending reminds me a bit of Galaxie 500’s song ‘Fourth of July’. It is a good ending. 

                Coco Sandes is intense. The poem gives off the feeling of a particularly dark ‘Law and Order: Special Victims Unit’. Guess that’s what old relationships feel like: once they are gone you can’t bring them back. They are buried and you’ll never be able to undo all the nasty things that lead to the demise. It is a sad poem but it is quite lovely. 

                Andrew Osbourne makes strange images. He appears to enjoy the Golden Girls in a non-ironic/post ironic way. One of the images deals with those famous 1980s superstars. Some of the others remind me of the best of Andy Warhol’s pop art creations, the ones that truly moved rather than simply replicated pop art. I’m talking about his car crash work. Yes, it is that weird, particularly ‘a view to kill’. 

                Lakshjit Gill writes a particularly bleak untitled poem. I like that it is untitled. That would sort of ruin the impact of the work. It is wonderful. Apparently this is his first entry into the wet and wild world of poetry submission. I hope more places accept his work. The line breaks really work for me but I happen to have a preference for that particular method. 

                Terrence Powell says he doesn’t consider himself a poet. I would consider him one. His poem is pretty stark in terms of delivery. Stylistically, it is the only one that focuses on the experiences of a group rather than individuals. I’m not sure why he’s the only one who took this approach but it actually gains power by focusing out rather than in. 

                Overall this is a sweet first issue. I enjoyed it. I want more. I know it takes a while. Mr. Mackey did a pretty excellent job compiling some of my favorite Tumblrs into one collection. Plus it introduced me to more people and avenues to explore. And that’s a good thing.