Dinosaur Porn, eds. Gordon, Faulkner, Nash

Downloading Pornsaurus Rex Instead

Of Downloading You

Nathaniel G. Moore

Goodbye and goodnight cave girl extreme

Your club asleep at cave mouth, your mouth

Diligent, lean.

I clean the barrel of my mischief.

Can it be you that I hear snoozing

In the Dino Mart staff lounge in leopard print

Tart wear? Let me view you, then,

Sleeping with terror broom, terribly constructed

Standing as when I drew near to the pile of dry leaves

And twigs where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,

Even to the original nightmare blouse.

Or is it only the trees, and their dutiful chemistry in its twitchy night

Scratching at my cave door?

Dusty kisses travelling across the mulch and oh my manners.

You being ever so consigned to itemized profit sharing employee

Discount debate, heard no more of my poetry.

Thus I; cave slammed hard, leaves around me crying and pouting,

Wind a sore oozing cream across my chest, my nostrils delighted in thorns

And the pornography calling.

I finally received a copy of Dinosaur Porn (2010), edited by Spencer Gordon, Andrew Faulkner and Leigh Nash as a co-presentation between their two small Toronto publishing houses, Ferno House and The Emergency Response Unit. This is an anthology that asked potential contributors to submit poetry and/or fiction on the theme of “dinosaur porn,” and was published with the following warning at the beginning, seemingly in lieu of an introduction:

WARNING: This anthology contains sexually explicit material and/or fossils. In order to excavate this anthology you must certify to the following:

Under the governing law of my continent, I have reach the epoch of majority and the epoch required to excavate sexually explicit material and/or fossils (i.e., at least the Lias Epoch). I am excavating this anthology from a location where sexually explicit material and/or fossils are legal and permitted. Furthermore, I will not permit any person or hatchling to excavate this anthology if said person or hatchling is not legally permitted to do so.

I would presume so much of this anthology, even to them, is either self-explanatory, or like a joke one doesn’t get, making it impossible to explain. What does that mean, exactly? Responses vary, but highlights included work by Nathaniel G. Moore, Gary Barwin, Andrew Faulkner, Louise Bak, Leigh Nash, Carey Toane, and Shannon Rayne, such as this piece, the first of her three in the small collection:

Primitive

Shannon Rayne

Therizinosaurus: This odd dinosaur had immensely long muscular arms (2.5m) that ended in three-fingered hands with huge 60cm long scythe shaped claws. Some experts suggest that it behaved like a giant ground sloth, sitting on its haunches to feed.

Douglas Palmer,

Dinosaurs

There is no much thing as an unflattering position. Bellies slap, hips tilt back. Thighs part just wide enough to expose our sex, our most vulnerable parts. Butterfly and lotus poses are nothing more than glossy labels given to sell books. Think downward dog, think bucking bull, primitive and raw squatting over cock as bellies roll and breasts flop. Make plenty of noise. Squeal, grunt, scream. Burrow your nails into your lover’s chest, bite down, reveal your teeth.

Beautifully produced in a numbered edition of two hundred copies, there are few anthologies of Canadian writing this odd, and with a variety of interesting work as well. But where the hell did they get the idea? Why do I suspect that the lack of introduction simply confirms that this was an anthology originally conceived over too many drinks?

Drink up, I say, dear editors. I, for one, would like to see what else you might imagine.