By Ken Cormier
This is often Ken Cormier's first released selection of prose and poetry. Ranging in temper from all-out hilarity to heart-stopping depression, this publication utilises a constant thread of track and rhythm to propel its language. Cormier's large heritage in percussion informs his writing at each point of the method. easily placed, Cormier brings functionality to the web page, and this can be his one-man type convey. Cormier's tales peel again the layers of a tendency suburban panorama, and his characters scratch and claw to discover idea at the railroad tracks, to undergo the absurdity of relatives disorder, to alternate the bitterness of complacency for the joys of overall annihilation. The poems toughen his over-arching topics, punctuating the textual content like rapid-fire epiphanies. The book's ultimate and longest instalment, 'Havris and Malen', is the tale of 2 brothers trying to juggle destiny, relations, and friendship opposed to a backdrop of unpredictable magic and a closet packed with drained secrets and techniques. comparable in shape to Gene Toomer's 1923 vintage, 'Cane', Cormier's 'Balance Act' is a various combination of poetry and fiction, a hyper-speed, gear-shifting monologue for the schizophrenic plenty.
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Extra resources for Balance Act
It's all too hot except for the cooling bitter-sniff rubbing alcohol he spills onto my confused form, twisting from the tickle, soaking up his icy solution with a moan I can't help but create, emit, swallow. — 30 — SPRING IN OHIO Behind the clock was a telephone. I sat up and then got to my feet. As if no one had slept there, I switched off the TV I mustn't have moved, all night long. I dreamt next to, under, my hand, The Holy Bible, trying to cover myself with it, remembering I was naked But my hands kept slipping out of my long fingers.
A whole slew of "Boocha, Roocha, Soocha," whatever. Her fists were clenched. The owner turned bright red and flew at the lady, lifting her up off her feet and throwing her about five feet into the gutter. Rita just sat there, drinking her rum. That lady stood up and started throwing chairs into the street. No one paid much attention. When the cops came they just told the lady to calm down, and they went on their way. No ticket, no fine, no nothing. No no no, thought Rita, no Tijuana this time. Pill-popping Rita took it all the way back to Gary, Indiana, in one long haul.
47 - My god, I thought. I had forgotten all about it. Today was my birthday! Seeing all those cheerful faces made me more excited than ever, and before I knew it I was howling and thumping the floor with my feet. The energy was contagious. Pretty soon a few of the party guests dropped their drinks and joined in on the masturbatory fun. And before long, everyone was doing it, each spiraling off into his or her own erotic fantasies. When it was over, we all had cake and watched movies on the VCR.