November 26, 2011

One of my favourite series of poetry. There is something about the sleazy or down side of our culture that is so appealing. Like the Wizard of Oz, pulp culture promises a better life. Maybe . Except no one believes that it is any more than a lottery. But life should be more than chance. Except it often isn’t. And as much as it my be filled with wonders great and mundane, it still ends.

Short listed in the C.B.C. national poetry contest. These poems are dedicated to the dime novels and pulp fiction, the disposable culture of its day.

My grandfather used to sneak out during the day to a brick wall that existed between he and his farming neighbour. Under a rock he would find the latest pulp novel. In that way my grandfather and his friend would exchange books, reading them in those lazy afternoons when it was too hot to work in the fields. I have dedicated these poems to those pulp novels.



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