Fabulous poems. How come all the great lit-zines found lying around sport old addresses? A wonderful evocative poet who rips into the urban nomenclature and drags the first person around like a boy pulling tight on the leash of his dead dog. I’m all for For Mr. Pickles. Irony choked on itself and then threw up these poems. Worth risking a stamp to the old address.
zine / #4, 12 pages / main creator: Duncan MacDonnell / free / 17 Borden St., Toronto, ON M5S 2M8 (uh-oh, only till August, well, maybe he has his mail forwarded…)