Poetry. PAD is a catalog of the author's attempt to lift each and every item in his apartment with his dick. Nothing is spared his strength—from the furniture to the walls, from the coins in the coin jar to the cards in the card decks. It is a parody of masculinity, a cheap joke, and a precise spatial mapping of an intimate space using the imprecise coordinates of a physical body. The poem serves as a voyeristic window into the private life of one man via his private property. The exhibitionism is twofold: upon reading this book you will know how strong his dick is (sort of) and exactly which commodities from the proceedings of his daily life, though the drama of those proceedings remains absent. The dick, in its new omnipresence, is de-eroticized. Nothing could be less sexy than a dick that doesn't go away, that is never hidden, and that turns up in every place you look, even the garbage can. On the other hand, the banal contents of his apartment are suddenly re-animated by their brief encounters.
Vanessa Place in The Constant Critic
Steven Zultanski is the author of several books of poetry, most recently HONESTLY (BookThug, 2018), On the Literary Means of Representing the Powerful as Powerless (2017) and BRIBERY (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2014). His critical writing has appeared in 4 Columns, Art in America, the Los Angeles Review of Books, Mousee, and elsewhere. In January 2017, an art exhibition inspired by his book AGONY (BookThug, 2012)) entitled You can tell I'm alive and well because I weep continuously was shown at the Knockdown Center in Queens. Steven lived for many years in New York City but now resides in Copenhagen, Denmark. Author City: BROOKLYN, NY USA