First Review of Slow Living by Notty Bumbo


Linearity is discouraged.
After an immersion in Slow Living, by Kenyatta JP Garcia, from West Vine Press
By Notty Bumbo
How he said it. How it got here, gets here, sends messages, goes sideways, across time and back, bounces history across personal synapses. This is a work unfolding, a journey despite its most ardent desire to locate a fixed point from which to observe, debate, break open anything within view or hidden behind unreason. From the Greeks to the Geeks, a brief mention of (the first) Hannibal, and never depositing two hundred dollars, Kenyatta goes and goes, his prose opposes fixed coordinates, this/these poems unfolding origami-like before the limits of understanding. A diary of mad fun and sullen rectitude, careening around my skull in philosophical glee. I suspect “JP” means Jet Propelled, or Just Perusing, or Jamming Profundity. I give this book an easy ninety-nine with a bullet– you can dance to it, all right, all night, outta sight!

Now Available: Playing Dead


Now Available for Kindle

Playing Dead

an epic poem
playingdead

Wanted


Delicate wish-chaser

 the voyage can turn

into the middle passage

at anytime.

Patience is measured

by what was drained from dreams,

by whatever was pushed aside

in desire’s wake,

by the amount saved

to be spent

when the time has become late.

Ships become small and stale

as days pass,

the captain becomes

less kind

and land is further away.

But persistence earns

freedom

never wanted.

Straight To Screen


Janus,

memory is a monument

for viewing

and fantasy

something for the squinting.

 

The split-life contained

in viewing/reviewing

and solving/resolving

is once again failing.

 

And now with life

more fully invested

in thinking towards

the ending

as the beginning fades

from view

and first stanzas

are stranded somewhere in dust

as these new words

hope for much better luck.

Straight to Screen


This air and the forces which pull it along the avenue

were not enough to push

the past upon the present to lean upon tomorrow

and the words

which should be

coming from the drafting and deconstructing

of the shadow

from which was cast

by flowers in bloom

upon the wings-to-be

which will hold burdens

when the molting finally comes.