The lexiconic whirlwind that is Butterflies and Pulp, certainly skirts the esoteric fringe, and is not for the lazy reader, but rather, those who take delight in the delve, the depth of (self)discovery. Jam-packed with all the bells and whistles you'd expect from a full-length poetry compilation, Butterflies and Pulp provides a highly imaginative ride that is at once spirited, and introspective, touching on topics such as sexuality, love, rage, drugs, loss, and acceptance.
There is a vulnerability that streams through the course of this book, beneath the brash, the flash, beneath the fantastically finagled lingo, lie sobering elements of all life's little (and not so little) hardships and the tolls they take on one's road toward spiritual awakening,
Take this excerpt, for instance, from Black Ice:
"Because I am contagious, still finding what is fun about me
My body against wood"
Or this, from, I loved:
"I wanted to say "no", like I could stop it from happening...I dropped it though
Picked something else back up
Affording it,
Easy"
The poems in Butterflies and Pulp meander; soar up violent slopes, skid down valleys of despair, only to ultimately settle, if somewhat precariously, on hope. Don't let the highly stylized facade fool you--Butterflies and Pulp offers art AND heart in large supply.
Come along for the ride won't you? You just might find yourself.
