Whores of the Industry by Arthur Graham
My rating: 4/5 cats
arthur graham has done it again—crapped 12 more pages of content into the world. take note, george r.r. martin—this is how to be a goddamn writer. and this time, the renaissance man has also included some of his art pieces:
what a showoff.
in this collection, arthur graham channels the spirit of hemingway in both his evocative brevity and his bold conflation of sex and death:
Finally, I blow my load and die.
he red-pencils a pre-grindr m/m assignation request with unflinching critical scrutiny.
proving his commitment to maintaining a green lifestyle, he pads the collection with one of his own recycled goodreads reviews.
he begins a crime story about zima that goes wildly off track in a way that makes the reader ask such profound questions as, “what the fuck?” and, “you call that a fucking story?”
he assures us that he is not, in fact, pinocchio.
busting all the rules like he’s the lang leav of poetry, he begins a poem in first person plural and concludes it in third person singular, and even makes up a word while he’s at it. chicks dig bad boys.
and he uses many naughty words many times:
fuck—14
suck—12
cock—10
penis—8
ass—8
blow/blowjob—8
vagina—6
shit—4
butthole—2
dick—1
brown-eye—1
tits—1
anus—1
knob gobbling—1
refinement—0
which is itself a poem—an acrostic, spelling out fscpabvsbdbtakr.
is there nothing arthur graham can’t do?
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