Nothing Happened and
Besides I Wasn't There
ISBN 13: 978-1-890311-01-8
56 pgs, Cover by the author
If Mark Wallace did the comedy
circuit, all that big hair and those sweet drinks would riot in the streets. Nothing Happened and Besides I Wasn't There is a series of one
to six line stanzas all revamping the idea of the one-liner. But the joke
is always frightening, a world where the 2x4s pounding the cat are hitting
our heads and they hurt damn it, as they always make us stop and consider
what we are. He is the existential joker: if Batman met the poet and it
was for real.
Mark Wallace's poetry is joyous, gloomy, frisky, reflective and vulnerable
to a sense of the living world that he never tried to master, but to inhabit
as a kind of sad old citizen, a belonger filled with longing. He loves
the daily popular tunes, the ring of contemporary coinage, flashes of
wry and sardonic humor, the lover's chagrin--for the sake of the human
conditions they are immediacies of, but it is a music of heaven and hell
he listens for in it all. The structure of identity is exploded in the
form of a three-dimensional literary method in which the borders of personality,
of self and nonself, are simultaneous and conflicting modes of expression.
Sometimes he takes off like a reasonable lecturer who suddenly becomes
demented. What an astonishing poet he is. He speaks great truths as casually
as if they were lies.
Mark Wallace demonstrates the value of writing far past the point where
the instigators of social, psychological, and economic oppression wish
he'd keep his mouth shut. This amazing deflection of repetitive aphorisms
swirls and spirals in upon itself, fueled by the delusory aggrandizements
of the insidious institutions we call contemporary existence. Wallace
manages to capture what it's like to find oneself all dressed up with
no place to go. This is no book for the squeamish. Buy it only if you
have nothing better to do. You don't.
WARNING: The Surgeon General has determined that reading Nothing Happened
and Besides I Wasn't There may harm your mental equilibrium, impede
your ability to act as a cog, and imperil you most functional cliches.