A quick flip to a Sandy Atwal review from BP last year should clear up the end of this review. (“If poetry is going to make a comeback among the young, relevance must return.”) BP 13 pg 63. On with the review. This is a dirty, personal romp through fetish fiction, poetry and photocopied lingerie that includes a poem by Toronto’s Cynthia Gould. Boo Jupiter’s rant on virginity was funny at times (“What? Give? You mean like you give someone a toaster? What have you given? What has s/he taken? Why the hell does it matter so much?…I think I would have been happier if it had just bee n sex, not the freaking super bowl.”) There’s an interview with ARTVAMP, a web artist who deals with sex. Everything in this issue of Crooked Finger revolves around sex. The cover promises, “For the joy of orgasms, true love and human contact…” Somehow this zine just never did it for me. Maybe it was the lack of focus or the fact that I was never sure who was writing what. The hand scrawled poetry at times seemed to be just unsound filler. It seems that the gulf between what the young are calling poetry and what in fact poetry has actually been historically, seems to grow wider and wider each year. Maybe just call them 12-line thing-a-majigs. (Nathaniel G. Moore)
zine, #2, $1, plus postage, Boo, c/o P.O. Box 69 Laval, QC, N7X 3M2, [email protected]