Jerry Ratch
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 The Author  Wild Dreams of Reality, a novel  long 65 page sequence of poems about a Puppet without a name, thus "X"  Homeowner Haikus, a humorous little gift book  Chaucer Marginalia, an experimental extravaganza of language  Hot Weather, Selected Poems  Light, poetry  The Author |
WelcomeInformation for collectors on the Newsletter page. Click on the Newsletter link above. Signed copies of most books are available from the author directly. Contact jerry@ Agent, publisher, collector inquiries are welcome. Memoir currently available for publication, entitled: A BODY DIVIDED. The story of a one-armed boy growing up in a two-fisted world: in a time of Polio. Novel: WILD DREAMS OF REALITY, 2001 (195 pp) "The almost, but not quite innocent directness of Ratch's savvy little novel is irresistible to me. I read it in a sitting. I'm glad real writers still want to write books this way." - Richard Ford, jacket quote. This novel is available for re-issue. Copies are for sale from the author. Also available: screenplay for the novel (110 pp) -- Poetry Books: Puppet X, (Shameless Hussy Press, 1973, 1976) Clown Birth, (Shameless Hussy Press, 1975) The Suburban Poem, (Nemesis Press, 1975) Osiris, (Cloud Marauder Press, 1977) Chaucer Marginalia, (Sombre Reptiles Press, 1979) Rose, (Sombre Reptiles Press, 1979) Hot Weather: Selected Poems, (Scarecrow Press, 1982) Chairman, (Sombre Reptiles Press, 1982) Helen, (Cloud Marauder Press, 1984) Lenin's Paintings, (Illuminati Press, 1987) Light, (O Books, 1988) Homeowner Haikus, (Frog, Ltd, 2005), co-author: Sherry Karver -- The author is available to read from his work, and has done hundreds of readings to date. Other manuscripts in development. Inquiries invited. See: Newsletter. -- And a recent poem: WHY WE WANTED TO LIVE THERE “We can walk anywhere and we can stop at some new café where we don’t know anyone and nobody knows us and have a drink.” -- Hemingway At the center of the world our bodies floated over each other, near to everything, at the center of being. Not like arrows pointing in three directions, but like our own bodies, pulsing in and out. Laughter could cure nearly anything, it was said, it was so precious. It was like an undiscovered metal no one knew anything about yet. And when they discovered how rare it was, O look out! They came to wage wars over it. That’s how badly it was needed. It was widely known how we could live on laughter alone. Not air, not water nor land was more precious. Who cared about the apples hanging from trees? Who cared about the lovely pomegranate? We came to care little for the perfect orange. But for a small glassful of laughter we would kill. Yes, kill. -- copyright (c) 2008 by Jerry Ratch |
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