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By Purdy, Director of Publicity

Michael Manner and I were English majors at Plattsburgh State before the days of email, before the days of the fax. Indeed, the modern technology of the time was floppy disk computers, and the CD was quickly replacing the cassette tape. Manner and I have kept in touch through the years and when we are together we often argue and bicker like a married couple about love, fear, greed, envy, lust, hypocrisy, music, cats v. dogs, words et al. I think the only thing we ever seem to agree on is that chocolate milk is the greatest invention ever. But enough about me, Manner is a freelance computer consultant living with his mangy, blind cat in Williamsburg Brooklyn, NY. His love of poetry dates back to when dinosaurs roamed the earth and he first heard the words “ugga bugga” uttered by a passing Neanderthal woman. He’s been writing verse since the Iron Age and one day hopes to be cited in the OED. His fave comic book hero is Batman. Despite all this I think is is a truly talented poet and have asked him to post some poems on this blog. You be his judge.

Spill the molten crust.

Spill – Spill vaporic waste.
What slaughters sea beneath a falling crawl –
what burns what cannot burn.
What cracks black and orange like conquered flesh.
What spews bile becomes soil – scarring the offing
Behind smoke white as the whale. There is no difference –
Both create – both destroy – what lives dies. All is wasted;
And all either stone or mist.

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W. Heath Robinson, the English illustrator and master cartoonist, is celebrated in Contraptions, a lavish collection of his work now available from The Overlook Press. Publishers Weekly notes: "American readers will not recognize W. Heath Robinson’s name, but he can best be explained as the British version of American cartoonist Rube Goldberg, a specialist in visualizing absurdly complex combinations of low-tech devices arranged to perform simple tasks. This was also the specialty of cartoonist and illustrator Robinson, who was born a decade earlier, in 1872. It seems that in Britain “a Heath Robertson contraption” means the same thing that a “Rube Goldberg machine” does in the States. Editor Geoffrey Beare points to Robinson’s skills as both artist and satirist. Robinson often depicts scenes from a low angle and gives them an epic scale, endowing his nonsensical machines with an ironic grandeur while mocking the indolence of the modern man, who would rather rely on gadgetry than perform a simple task himself. Through his cartoons Robinson conveys his own sheer joy in his amazing visual imagination. These cartoons are not laugh-out-loud funny, but are consistently inventive and amusing. The reader may find himself in the position of the black cat who turns up in numerous Robinson cartoons, quietly observing the follies of humanity, fascinated by them. "