The Jackalope Wars: The E-book

I'm really happy to have said that the limited edition print run of Jeremy Bauer's The Jackalope Wars from Stoked Press has sold out, but I'm also stoked to announce that it is now available in a free e-book, hosted by Issuu. Jeremy did most of the design for this thing, so big thanks to him for that. Also, thanks to everyone who bought the chapbook. Be sure to add it on Goodreads.

LOTS OF THINGS GET ME STOKED

Like my first Vouched Satellite post at Smalldoggies Magazine. I get to talk to and about one of my favorite indie writers, Mike Young. Also, he let me post a piece of his work that I'm all about lovin'.

Like the Matt Hart/Michael Meyerhofer reading next Tuesday. I love Matt Hart's Who's Who Vivid and am shaking to get his new book. I've heard nothing but good stuff about his reading style. Meyerhofer is a sweet poet and reader, so will be nice to see him again. Also, a soon-soon-soon-to-be-determined Writers Community member will be opening this event.

Like the State Champion/Learner Dancer show on November 14th in Indy. I've been itching to see State Champion again and sing along and pick up their record. I've also been wanting to see my old pals Mitch and Landon in their new band, Learner Dancer. THIS IS PERFECT FOR THAT. TWO BIRDS ONE CAR RIDE.

Like the Jackalope Wars Release Party/Reading on November 17th. This is to get pumped more and more about Jeremy Bauer's chapbook. Jeremy asked my new friend Lindsey and I to read. SWEET.

Like Stoked Press. In addition to Jeremy's chapbook, the reading, and the great response thus far, we have a blog now, a gmail account, and some super secret future plans, which may or may not include recipes or my voice or LOTSA LOVE.

THEY'RE ON THE LOOSE

GIVE THE WARS A CHANCE
THESE POEMS SHRIEK IN MY EAR
I'M NOT ENOUGH MAN TO HANDLE THESE ALONE
I'M NOT ENOUGH HUMAN TO LIVE LIKE THIS
JEREMY BAUER PUT OODLES AND NOODLES AND POODLES
OF EFFORT INTO THIS CHAPBOOK
AND YOU PUT TEARS AND YEARS AND BEERS
INTO BEING ALIVE
SEEMS LIKE AN AWESOME COMBO TO ME
FOUR BUCKS AND A GLORY UNITING
EIGHT POEMS AND A HANDFUL OF PAPER
WANT IT? I'M STOKED SO LET ME KNOW

The Jackalope Wars by Jeremy Bauer

I am stoked to announce the completion of a project I spent the summer working on: the debut chapbook of Jeremy Bauer.

This chapbook is the first release for Stoked Press. Jeremy Bauer has captured the words that were fighting their wars in space. Now, here they are in poem form, contained but still fighting, alive and kicking. CHECK IT OUT ON GOODREADS.

Some cool poet dudes wrote blurbs:

The poems in The Jackalope Wars are sort of violent, sort of sweet, and completely kick ass. I like Jermey Bauer’s words a lot. He presents a little corner of Hope in a big room of Hell. I want to quote a line from the book, but I keep getting distracted by other lines. Like how he writes: “Oh Baby, we are The Murder!” And I feel like, "Yeah, I hear you."

-Peter Davis, author of Poetry! Poetry! Poetry! and Hitler’s Mustache

In Jeremy Bauer's The Jackalope Wars, creation is an event that is still happening all over us. And as the Gods continue shifting our atoms, the only response is war. William Carlos Williams said that "a poem is a small (or large) machine made of words." Well, these poems are robots that have turned on the master in the sky. There is fire and blood and now my eyes contain lasers like swirling multitudes. These poems are large and they will eat you.

-Daniel Bailey, author of The Drunk Sonnets

Jeremy is a good friend of mine, and I'm real stoked to see his poems see the world on paper this way. I've been wanting to put out a chapbook for awhile, and to have Jeremy's be my first, DAG YES.

The official release is next Tuesday, and they will be selling for four bucks. If anyone is interested in purchasing one, let me know.

Here is a poem to convince you:

Divine Dog Heads

My hurricane is naked
dripping with birds
soggy with birds
Teaming with white-as-angel’s-blood
gulls

Crying ‘cause they’re hungry
Hungry for french-fried dreams
and salted maritime varietals

They’re dipshits
Their hobbled calls for the true gleam
that envelops with radiant, slobbering
energy but hovers beyond
any manner of vision or scope
or material real

They fly with the dog heads
Heads of wisdom and divine luminescence
But they’re all bleeding and old
Wrinkled, tired muzzles
Tinged with gray and white and lost love

Their beaks hardly open, they creak
like decrepit doors ready to
fall from the hinges