Kim Gek Lin Short's China Cowboy, now available from Tarpaulin Sky Press

ISBN: 9780982541685
Lyric Novel | 6"x8", 132 pp, pbk, June 2012
Cover design: Andrew Shuta

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In the technicolor timewarp call Hell, Hong Kong, wannabe cowgirl La La is hellbent on realizing her dream to be a folk-singing sensation, even if it means surviving a dysfunctional relationship with her kidnapper, Ren, who is just hellbent. Ren thinks he’ll win, but La La, dead or alive, always wins.

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR CHINA COWBOY

"Heated and heartbreaking.... guiding us expertly over the bluegrass, bodies and Time Warps of Hell, child abuse, power and Country Music"—RAUAN KLASSNIK

“Moving between the explicit descriptions of the Marquis de Sade and the implicit ironies of Nabokov, these pieces are excruciatingly compelling, so infernal as they are related in languages variously pornographic and desperately, radically tender.... A bold, imaginative, timely work from a courageous and complex thinker." —HEIDI LYNN STAPLES 

"More hydra than hybrid, a slim monster sprouting new directions for form, narrative, culture, and identity."—CHRISTIAN TEBORDO

"La La and Ren are as searing as any characters I’ve encountered....”—CHRIS TONELLI

Read more, including excerpts, at the TSky Press official webpage for Kim Gek Lin Short's China Cowboy.

Claire Hero's chapbook, Dollyland, now available from Tarpaulin Sky Press

Prose Poetry
5"x5", 32pp., saddle-stapled
Limited, numbered edition of 100 copies

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from Dollyland :

making Dolly

Never was it a question of not. A beached beastscape, a great Cell agape – we entered it. We breached the teethy tunnel & what dumb light leads us we never. In & in & we dare not note what muck marks our hands, what holds us by the tongue. What turns us inward we know not, only that as we went the hold more holds & more until to draw limb from It grew harder still, until we melded our each to other, our me to we, & moved as muscles do, pulse by pulse. Into the vasty deep & deeper still we moved toward what the light might give. Not for eyes, this light, but as for mouth or blood, a feed, & we grew fat on it. We swelled on our stem, pearly & new – & if we rent the flesh that kept us? We birthed a newborn light, a blooded thing: the Hand within our hand, the Eye within our eye.
 

Read more at the TSky Press web page for Claire Hero's Dollyland