I was toying with the idea of converting this blog into an actual literary review featuring Outlaw Poetry. I am already the editor of Zombie Logic Review, and the co-editor of Outsider Poetry, but those reviews don’t receive a lot of outlaw poetry, per se. I’m not even sure I know what it is when I see it. I suppose the most real indicator is if one self-identifies as an outlaw poet.
If anyone who sees this is interested in submitting their poetry, and if it conforms to the standards of Outlaw Poetry, send me your work at email@example.com. I don’t make any promises yet, but I think I’d be willing to post it here if it had quality. Please make a note in your subject heading that this is poetry intended for the blog.
The Cubs played a real humdinger last night. I was completely prepared as the ninth inning started to wait until Thursday, then possibly lose to Johnny Cueto, who the Cubs have not hit at all. That 9th inning comeback was one of the most thrilling moments I can remember in forty years of being a Cub fan. I’m concerned now what happens after Lester and Hendricks pitch, and the bats are strangely quiet, but eight more wins and the Cubs will be World Series champions.
I have the window open and nice, cool breeze is coming in. Earlier I was pleasantly surprised when the ATT service tech was able to get my internet going in a 125 year old building where Zombie Logic Press resides. Nobody has probably had a phone line in here in over ten years, but he found a wire and made the connection.
All the building around Zombie Logic Press have been bought over the past two years and are being turned into antique shops, olive oil stores, rooftop bars, barber shops, and art studios. Soon unless I buy the building I’ll be forced out, and as much as I love this building it’s a real dump and worthless.
The Holmes Block building has been here since 1888, and I was surprised to learn when I researched it that it has always been residential. The two bottom units seem perfect for storefronts, possible even a gallery for Jenny’s work. An automobile museum has been moved in next door. The whole building is in the process of slouching into the middle. I can even see book cases sitting at a slant.
Eight years here now. At the heart of what the FBI now says is the most dangerous city in America with a population under 200,000. The gentrification process has begun. Soon I’ll want to go somewhere else even though I really do enjoy this place. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a building this big.
Anyway, if anyone wants me to read their outlaw poetry there are no guarantees I will publish it, but send it to me in an email and I’ll take a look. Please send a 3rd person biography and a picture if you don’t mind as Google seems to like that.