Begging for It
by Alex Dimitrov
Four Way Books, April 2013
96 pages / $15.95 Order from Four Way Books
1. I think fantasy is going to kill me and that is ok.
2. I want to fuck a beautiful thing and not get attached.
3. I want to be a twink getting fucked by a twink and the twink I am getting fucked by should be me.
4. Twinks can also get attached.
5. “Before I leave here, I want / to hear my name change in the mouth / of another animal.”
6. Sometimes I wish a boy was a dog so that being in unrequited love w/ the fantasy I create around him would be spiritual and not just a voracious attempt to fill a hole, which I know better than to try and fill with flesh, or worse yet, flesh coated in a fantasy to which the flesh will not conform.
7. At least then I would be feeding a dog.
8. Feeding a dog is spiritual.
9. Getting fucked in the heart is spiritual.
10. It is dangerous to get fucked in the heart, especially if you don’t let the fucker know he is fucking your heart.
11. This kind of omission serves to trick a fucker, who doesn’t want any hearts involved, into fucking your heart and/or tricks you into believing that your heart won’t get fucked.
12. Sometimes you genuinely don’t know you are getting fucked in the heart til it’s over.
13. Another thing that is spiritual is when a poet doesn’t try to bullshit you with language.
14. Alex Dimitrov doesn’t try to bullshit you with language.
15. Alex Dimitrov meets a conceptual poem in the street, takes it home, impales it on a cross covered in Sylvia Plath’s Daddy’s chest hair and says: Let me introduce you to your heart.
16. This review is not about Alex Dimitrov.


A Questionable Shape
Anathemas and Admirations
Someone grabbed me the other day. He wanted to talk about
I don’t know much about Rap. I used to smoke Oregon marijuana and drive around as a skinny pale shit listening to my brother’s tape of “Too Short” in my brother’s old red Honda stick shift, driving through the hills of Portland, already making up crazy voices in my head to tell stories with, but not telling any of them, just listening to them making me crazy in my head. So stoned, and driving, and everything like a song. The whole world singing. Which was probably the best. The not telling them and just having them. I definitely didn’t believe Too Short and guessed he was just playing with voices in his head too. I didn’t think of any of it as factual, or having any larger implications, or that there was anything real to find out about. Which was my fault. I was dumb about rap. I was just another freaky weird kid driving around in a brother’s car, cologne in the console, getting drunk and stoned and looking at the sky. I don’t know why, but I want to put this link here: 
Here and Now: Letters 2008-2011