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Todd Katinski:

PO Box 4301
Seattle WA, 98104

28 pp., $5.00

A first chapbook for this word-slinger, and it is full of learned despair, Gothic shadows, and imaginative connections; assertions of truth, erotic silences, and cultural criticism in the form of free verse. A total of 29 poems with titles like "Whoreific," "Bad Acid or Good Poetry," & "My Brain Tasted Like Hell So I Spat It Out." Katinski is an iconoclast and his cold critical eye give his voice a Beat snap. "Sometimes objects/ Sometimes silence/ Sometimes our own drunken mumble/ but most of the time the immeasurable/ space between the bodies in bed/ makes one think of a sniper's bullet..." This is the voice of a dark abiding presence, an outlaw intellect, which may live in the deep recesses of all of us.--R.R. Lee Etzwiler

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This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #4,
Copyright Burning Press 1994, 1995.

Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press