Canadian Poetry; Wet Ink Books; Canada; Canadian Literature; publishing; www.WetInkBooks.com; Devour; Devour: Art & Lit Canada; Find all of our mags; “Devour” and “The Ambassador” –www.issuu.com/richardgrove1/stacks/bc11ecdd1e7646c4b1fac2bb7aef11ef
 

 

John B. Lee

 

 
Canadian Poetry; Hidden Brook Press; Canada; Canadian Literature; publishing; www.hiddenbrookpress.com; Devour; Devour: Art & Lit Canada; Find all of our mags; “Devour” and “The Ambassador” –www.issuu.com/richardgrove1/stacks/bc11ecdd1e7646c4b1fac2bb7aef11ef
 

 

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41 Words:

In the teasing tradition of Chuck Berry’s “My Dingaling” John B. Lee’s erotic writing in Darling, may I touch your pinkletink will leave you like Tantalus at the well, as with every page you turn you find yourself thirsting for more.

 

 

150 Words:

Every pinkletink toucher will recognize themselves in these beautifully erotic poems that celebrate the body, both male and female, and raise human sexuality to a sacred rite.  In the tradition of Leonard Cohen, Irving Layton, Lorna Crozier, and Molly Peacock, John B. Lee writes about the body so shamelessly and beautifully we might all of us finally admit we live within reach of our own desires.  From when we first played doctor, to when we consult the doctor in service of our needs, from show-me yours innocence of impubes, through the intense longing of adolescence, and on from there to when we’ve settled in to loving the one we love the most, and finally we come to the age where we begin to understand what we’ve gained from experience and what we’ve lost with the flagging of vigor and vitality, this deepening is captured in wise recollection and sagacious imaginings.

 

367 Words:

If the title Darling, may I touch your pinkletink is a serious question, (and it is), then every human in possession of a pinkletink (and that is everyone) might cry out touché in celebration of the way we are touched by these poems.  Like the one who wields the sharp-tipped rapier, or the blunt-tipped epee, Lee is something of a fencing master as he seeks and finds the mot juste for both anatomy and soul in celebration of both lust and loving.  Thrust and parry, touch and counter-touch, give and receive, reveal and perceive, to give permission and to withhold consent, all we do in this loving dance is here in these amazing erotic poems.  Like the audience that thrilled to hear Chuck Berry’s double entendre when he sang the words to “My Dingaling,” we all know what it means to be cagey when it comes to our own sexuality.  And there’s mirth in the perilous exploration of sexuality.  Deep down we recognize the physical needs that wake us naked in the night, naked as the day we were born, and down where the spirit meets the bone, we find a longing for a loving connection to the self and through that self to the other, the one who is acquiescent to our most secret and most sacred desire.  The Gilgamesh poet, the Songs of Solomon poet, Sappho, Catullus, the young John Donne, Robert Herrick, the list is long, and it’s long overdue for another Canadian poet to celebrate the body, to remove the fig leaf from the secrets of Eve, and to find there an awakening as it was with the first delicious taste of the fruit that hung ripe and beckoning on the branch in the orchard of Eden.   If there’s a better book anywhere that captures what it means to be young and curious, to pass through the temptations of adolescence, to emerge unscathed and to live within the healthy libido of a mutually loving couple, and from there to pass into the land our parents knew, I haven’t read it.   This book joins the essential texts, the ones we cannot do without.  Let John B. Lee touch your pinkletink.  You won’t regret it.

 

 
Canadian Poetry; Wet Ink Books; Canada; Canadian Literature; publishing; www.WetInkBooks.com; Devour; Devour: Art & Lit Canada; Find all of our mags; “Devour” and “The Ambassador” –www.issuu.com/richardgrove1/stacks/bc11ecdd1e7646c4b1fac2bb7aef11ef