DO NOT INQUIRE WITH Amrita  (or the Editor Joe Barby) I do not make any decisions in this matter;  but send all inquiries  TO:   Mark Antony Rossi,  [email protected]

But Please,  ONLY AFTER YOU'VE READ HIS SIMPLE GUIDELINES!  

I strongly prefer to review poetry chapbooks and full-length books of maturity and sincerity.

I do not review poetry books about racist hatred, religion, explicit sexuality, nature worship, occultic nonsense or academic staleness.

I do not care about credentials, credits, awards, recommendations or formal training. Let the work speak for itself. I mean this.

Email me at  [email protected]  with a brief description of the book, a sample set of poems and your email address. If found suitable, I will email you back with my snail mail address so you may send a book to me. The book will be reviewed and posted. I will not request a book I cannot or will not review. All forwarded books are considered review copies and become the property of reviewer after posting.

I will not review another book from the same author for at least two years. Please keep this in mind and give another worthy writer a chance.

While I do prefer chapbooks or full-length books that have already been produced I certainly will examine a galley proof snail mailed to me by a publisher, along with a letter assuring publication.

Looking forward to reading and reviewing books of powerful and moving poetry.

 Mark Antony Rossi, [email protected]

   This Russian writer, like most Russian writers, (past or present),
emotes a tragic philosophy so wrenching the reader actually reflects upon his life with gratitude.

   I say this without sarcasm. The Russian poetic soul is mostly a blue canvas when bearing in mind their brutal and undemocratic history. Both powerful and beautiful words were often all their honourable citizens had to fight the terrible deeds of heartless leaders willing to slaughter, starve and strike fear in the souls of any person of good will.

   Steven Duplij, a scientist, as well as an insightful poet, can speak intimately of radiation poisoning and biological horrors left behind by the Soviet military-industrial complex. These ghastly realities have caused increased cancer rates, human and animal miscarriage and deformation, and dozens of dead villages dotting the once thriving landscape.

   While Americans cheered their Cold War victory; emersing themselves in Oprah, Springer and a slew of dysfunctional dunces, the Russian people scrambled to locate a new identity, a new future and a new way of dealing with the criminal infliction of their environment. The soldiers dropped their guns. The nuclear missiles began to be dismantled. The generals collect their pensions. And incredibly enough, Greenpeace, was no where to be found.

   In the horrifying poem "Radiation" the narrator is the voice of a collective village screaming to the heavens:

"My air
Is the blinding flow of radiation.
I gnaw it
And my life is wiped by X-rays.
No! I don't want to decay on atoms!

   The past history streaks by in "Nucleus:

There's no events
I carry the temptations To their grave: my soul
sobs violently and hands
in blood.
I leaf through Night.
And her miasmas stole into my inside
to rot the shame of strivings dead."

   "Alien" is a useful if not uneasy wake-up call to all those who believe
wars end by peace treaties. War continues for decades after the soldiers leave the battlefield. We know this because the causalities continue to mount up each time a child or a farmer is blown apart in Afghanistan. A country that successfully defeated a superpower a decade ago, but whose people still suffer from the weapons strewn across the land.

   We know this because throughout the world  militaryveterans, untreated for psychological problems, commit suicide, commit crimes or become commited to harsh mental institutions. We know this because others are wasting away slowly by unseen weapons still devouring bone marrow from periods and places as diverse and distant as Nevada nuclear tests, Vietnam herbicides, Gulf War dumpsites, etc.

   We know this because these people suffer, often in silence, their families suffer often for generations. We know this cruel cycle can create poets, poetry, brave voices and ugly truths that surface again and again demanding our immediate attention. Say a prayer tonight that truth does not become ALIEN in your life, as it has in millions of lives around the world, who at this very moment dread their future.  Laying their weary heads on concrete pillows. Finding little rest in their sleep.

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