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Poetry. "Almost 20 years ago, when I was a critic by profession, a wise theater friend took me to my first Mac Wellman play—she'd grown tired of hearing me rant against a dumb, conventional 'avant-garde' of images. I wanted language, ideas, great but non-narrative passions. I saw Mac's work, and there they were. Still are. Mac Wellman's poetry, on and off stage, is ever-inventive, witty, angry, playful and exactly as contrarian in form and spirit as our culture deserves"—Erika Munk.
110 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
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January 4, 2010
Mac Wellman Mac Wellman Mac Wellman! An utterly sputtering act of macro-writing on (you thought they were small) points. All hail all that choruses in cinched jeering omni-verses. Come Combustible choruses! Come wiry, thirsty choruses! The undoable diddles. The pekingese boxes. The nectar just spazzes as it makes its way down. Call that a 'Mac Wellman!' Play it again.
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