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!


Slow Living

Here’s a link to West Vine Press’ page and an interview I did for Kleftikos radio where I spoke with Frankie Metro about Slow Living.

From the Superhero’s Diary by Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

Sparks of Consciousness is seeking short prose of all kinds. Here’s just one example

Sparks of Consciousness

From the Superhero’s Diary


Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

No question about it. I’m better than you. It’s what I do. You wouldn’t understand. I should be humble. Pride being a sin and all but I have the other six covered. Not a bad percentage. Better than yours I must say.

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Drowned By Story/Letters To No One

You have nothing better to do than write.  Of this, you can be proud.  Nothing else has come into the closest proximity so as to push this craft away from the mind and its hungry needy spirit.

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What could you write after reading: ” . . . bone-branch flowers – soft trumpets/So quietly purple they are also white?”  (Donald Revell)

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Not in the lexicon of dreams but in the stative verbs and copulas will the next poem finds its orientation in the language linking imaginations across distance/occurrence.

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You hate it when someone says, “I don’t understand what you are talking about even as you’re trying to explain it/yourself.”  What’s worse than not being given time – no, patience – for an explanation?

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The bridge of sensation and disaffection is difficult but it will be crossed.

Nostalgia need never be overlooked despite its baffling being for both writer and reader.  Simply the personal past is a confusion. The public history even more so in its attempt/desire to establish a ‘culture.’

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“Who is with me is against me.”                       (Francis Picabia)