Dear Paul,
Take Out Delivery plunges, playful, punful into the cheeky contem-poetics via poemics and plumbing the sonic underbelly of collective unconsciousness. "Lip locked to hip hop", "achingly rhythmic" scrawl about the base, the beat. Surreal submerge in subconscious cultural cream. Head-under-water bobbing for apples you know will taste juicy
as solitary sudden revelations of communal hear, now: "hot pepper people performing the sitar ritual over the relic of self." Bits of true dialogue glimmer like flashes seen out of eye corner. Culture hoarder. "Dark matter scavenger hunt." Dumpster diving for treasure, truth. The image shakes itself out of the eaves, startling, unfurling: "Most of those being found are dead--" These poems writhe and meaning writes itself in a slip-slide as images bleed blend and build into hot chili peppered wonders we never thought possible till your musical body wrung them out for us, in comic color.
Needless to proclaim, the SD team utterly adores your work and would love to publish Take Out Delivery!
[...]
Bright summer dregs,
Aurelia
Editor
Spuyten Duyvil Publishing
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