Author Andrea Janov shares memories of living in the New York City fast lane in the early 2000s with Short Skirts and Whiskey Shots: Tales of Nights I Shouldn’t Have Made it Home Alive. Review by Bob Pomeroy.

At Reed College: The First Recorded Reading of Howl & Other Poems (Omnivore Recordings). Review by James Mann.

Cease To Matter LP (Nonplace). Review by Carl F Gauze.

Sir John Gielgud threatens to clear the room with this eight-hour history of English verse, from Chaucer to Dylan Thomas. Carl F Gauze convinces you to stay.

Oh, Glory. Oh, Wilderness (Bakery Outlet Records). Review by Carl F Gauze.

Reflections (Uproar). Review by Scott Adams.

A slim volume of black and white collage art gets Carl F Gauze all hot and bothered about Dada.

A slim volume of black and white collage art gets Carl F Gauze all hot and bothered about Dada.

Praying Mantis (Noble Rot). Review by Carl F Gauze.

Big Treasure – The Best of Ten Years (TVS and Two Fingers). Review by Carl F Gauze.

Carl F Gauze , who may or may not be a card-carrying member of the Blank Generation, follows punk godfather Richard Hell from the seedy world of rock to the perhaps seedier world of the written word.

Three hundred pages of sadomasochistic poetry. Carl F Gauze asks if he may have another.

The only thing that can stop Carl F. Gauze from reading Wayne Koestenbaum’s enjoyable new volume of poetry is … Hold on a sec. Who’s there? Pizza? I didn’t order a pizza….

We’ll be catching up with this man’s talent for decades. Jason Nelson sends along six evocative postcards from Australia.

“There are now enough semiotics to allow less skilled minimalists to enter the one-way dialog, rising from nearly nothing to almost something.” No, seriously. Carl F Gauze says so.

Russell Kesler teaches writing at the University of Central Florida and Rollins College. Now a former student, Troy Jewell, takes a look at the instructor’s first collection of poetry, A Small Fire.

Every time I turn on the local college radio station and tune in to the hip-hop hour, between every song I get this itching in the back of my eyes….like “I should know better, just turn off the radio and don’t go along with the rest of the damn suburbanite kids ripping off perfectly good music that they should have nothing to do with….” And then the next beat comes in, some really cool samples and the poetry that old people refer either as “that noise” or, on occasion, as “rap.” And I’m lost in the noise…….