Chris Toll wrote several books, including The Disinformation Phase (Publishing Genius 2011) and Love Everyone (Open 24 Hours 2006). He lived in Baltimore, MD where he was an integral part of the poetry scene. He died in September.
Adam Robinson: These late poems from Chris Toll– one of them is a flash fiction, he’d tell you — aren’t that different from early poems by Chris Toll. All the pieces are the same. Like the bluesmen sing, I know Chris, and he don’t never change.
Nicolle Elizabeth: Chris Toll was a brilliant poet and a brilliant, good man. Poetry and the universe are at a greater loss than can be aptly expressed in a note from me. His work stands and it will stand, Chris’ talent speaks for itself.
Nathaniel is a drag queen and a rodeo clown. To supplement his income, he
moonlights as a hacker for the CIA. Rumor suggests his underground bunker is in
the Catskill Mountains. He really lives in a bungalow on the outskirts of a small town
in Ohio. He shares his bungalow with his boytoy, Jeremy, who used to be a trapeze
artist. Nathaniel is dedicated to at least one typo in every email. Jeremy raises
angora goats. Nathaniel doesn’t know how to love without a piece of rope in his
hands. His world changes when he meets a shy college girl in a hardware store. Her
name is Anna. She plans to be a Rhodes Scholar. She steals a sweater from each
ex-boyfriend. She moves into the bungalow, and Nathaniel begins a pilgrimage from
bed to bed.
Fascism leaves on little cat feet.
A young woman,
her hair prematurely gray,
sits at her laptop.
Why is a law in claw?
The Ghost gives the hand signal
to let the flying saucers land.
Why is yes in eyes?
A detective takes her laser cannon
off the back of a prehistoric crocodile.
She and the prehistoric crocodile
have formed a telepathic bond.
Why is the past in pastiche?
Clarissa the Christ
puts on her black leather domino mask.
I know you by heart.