Eleven “poets who were not afraid to let a little weirdness into their work, a little bit of the imagination”, as guest editor Paul Nelson puts it. Plus readings and interviews in audio. When I was asked by Rattapallax editor Flavia Rocha to curate a selection of West Coast poets, there were several facets of this project that I considered a given. First, I wanted to limit the poets to the Northwest,... 

Rattapallax has the unique opportunity to meet with myriad internationally-renown poets and a staff that is deeply focused on promoting and publishing new work. Meet the staff and contributors to this, or first issue of Rattapallax Online. Ram Devineni is the editor and publisher of Rattapallax and a film-maker who has had films shown at the Cairo International Film Festival, San Jose Film Festival,... 

by C. E. Putnam Imagine: Inside the ship the wet prisoners tried to burn themselves to help them avoid their new cellblock— better to leave hysterical smoke behind like worthless bitching The evening star. Someone, at least, meant it (the star) as a way to experience the destruction of your body a fissure inside of what meaning is to you and what it is to me. To The BUNNY and The Yak : What are we... 

by C. E. Putnam Alice and I were in the park in the late afternoon with the ruins of a thousand BUNNY statues. “Before” she said, “I was never afraid of anyone but now I feel animals and insects moving in my eyes and am always terrified. Two to three animals would come in a group and then go away and others come passing through each other not animals at all.” There was a long tree lined boulevard and... 

by C. E. Putnam A flute playing in the night echoing up from the gully waves of breath and drone over the river the invitation was either wet fingers into her mouth bite off the tongue and carry it home in a pail of buttermilk or made of white wax my warm skin / my latent breasts yellowed with turmeric & patterned with beetle scratches Then to sleep and I felt these beautiful sounds as a physical stretching. View... 

by C. E. Putnam The difference: Day-Suffering by Night being preferable to Night-Suffering by Day. Since after I began with Spooky her techniques of paralysis improved to the point where I couldn’t feel her cage playing go-go glowspots and feathers so that I might enjoy myself. Very long sex fluids (ninety x 1000) faults & on the news: The Bunny Motor wanting to rip something to look forward... 

by C. E. Putnam A six-armed sex-crazed BUNNY pulling on the string from both ends, and jerking up hard against your loins without warning? You should have become a mop. The only thing a mind cannot reflect. I stay put and draw on your window from outside in the dusty world. The sun and shadow on your naked from the very beginning drifting into the ripple pool taking the rump direction a simple squirt... 

by C. E. Putnam It’s getting late in the evening speaking not to the patient itself but to the entity inside. Before the patients go to bed they must sweep the hospital-barn else the mountain-ghosts will visit the farm at night. If they forget all the recently drowned will rise up and make merry there lugging eels in their arms and even months later might remain somewhat visible in milky twilight... 

by C. E. Putnam Unknown to Herf, in the dark confines of his delivery truck, the Evol Ghosts were crawling closer to him dragging heavy bludgeons jerking their crooked thumbs. For a long time Herf, thought about how best to move the DEAD BUNNY & how to accomplish it in a single day. He felt doomed like a walking starving zombie, or a living hungry ghost. He was just a simple barrel bunger. He could...