Search

Weasel Press is excited to bring out an intense book of short plays by Robin Wyatt Dunn. Last Freedom is a collection of observations presented through rich and sometimes insane characters. Readers will enjoy the gut-punching and fast paced style of Robin Wyatt Dunn brings with him in these 8 impacting plays. Included in this collection are: Hobbes and Calvin, Spirit Journey, Dubya Operetta, The Jump, Two Jews, A Man Stands, A Marriage Play, and I Am Chumash, I Am Aching. We invite readers to pry open these pages and enjoy!

"Remarriages" is for the outcast and the disappointed. Dark poems riding wildly through the mind of an angry man who both loves and hates the world. The words reveal a bitter struggle to reconcile with the horrors and the violence inherent in the world. Dunn's poetry is psychological and raw, with a delicate balance between light and darkness. Dunn's poems are valiant in expressing the darkness many fear, yet others embrace. Some of his poems nudge the reader to take time to examine the bizarre existence we call life.

Sunsborne pitches darkly into another world. Often the world and characters is hazy, but ''Sunsborne'' is a true picture of the reality, conflict and tensions. In the midst of a conflict torn situation there is love. Robin Wyatt Dunn presents an uncanny story of past and present, darkness and light. His way with language and its thick opacity create a stunning impact on the mind. If you are looking for ''meanings'', leave it. If you are looking for legerdemain stunts, leave it. But if you are looking for a fabulous world, in mythic settings, here it is, in the manner that only Dunn can achieve - credulity climaxing into incredible and fascinating story. Ananya S Guha Shillong, INDIA.

A fascinating book of traditional and original dances and dance tunes, with chords, by fiddle and mandolin player Robin Dunn. Robin brings together a selection of his own compositions along with traditional favorites. A couple of fabulous tunes composed by Willie Taylor, The Pearl Wedding and Nancy Taylor's Reel, are here as well. They are extremely widely played and are unavailable elsewhere. Also included are Robin's notes on the influences and inspirations behind the music. Mally's and UK product #AR108.

"Don't be afraid. They're only words. These things that move our limbs: engines of a kind. You can climb in, and rev it up with me, and watch the terror fill the windshield. It's our right, as apes, to see just what it is the sky can do, and these trees, before they both collapse."These words being the journey. death songs is a quiet protest against divisions created by attempts to silence the dark consuming humankind. In an anti-lyrical fashion, Dunn reminds us how much of life is sustained by aspects of our nature under political scrutiny today. From baking bread to pounding meat, cannibalistic violence is omnipresent. This poetry mourns for the fallen self, expositing the death rattle of chains sustaining our slavery to a bored world. These poems are a voice for the lost despair that once annulled life freely. By creating spaces between language and loss, Dunn is a voice to the world a shallow culture shuns for values that do not emancipate. By seeing life's dungeon as inevitable, Dunn sets the reader free from mental bonds that restrict individuality. These poems do not appear personal and view the personal through a lens that is almost anonymous. Dunn's use of language is not elaborate but can sew with threads from multiple looms. His vocabulary is unusual for contemporary poetry, but it is life giving. Nothing else reads like Robin Wyatt Dunn. From tribute to protest, Dunn's poetry is illumined and sharp. In reading, one can connect with the silence of mourning and the chaos of structure. Dunn's use of language is asexual; it is regenerative. The words meet each other in isolation yet are whole themselves. Syntactically, the poems develop from an inner chaos into a complete organic fate. One cannot make sense of them, or even relate entirely. However, the feeling arising from each poem is one of residence in suffering intellect. The mind is its own place-and like Samson Agonistes, we will tear that building down and reinvent from the ruins. Each word is a liberator, a full thought, a pulmonary grief sifting the autonomy of the wreck of beauty.

A Bildungsroman of many voices, Robin Wyatt Dunn's new short novel WHITE MAN BOOK follows an eponymous "White Man" who speaks in ebonics as he investigates the origins of whiteness and its impact on his life.WHITE MAN BOOK is part jeremiad, part expose, part prose poetry novel. It endeavors to wrestle with the implications of our beloved James Baldwin's observation that the white man is the "real nigger baby.""Nobody knows white man. He ethnic like that. He is special. Nobody like him. Other people, they special their own way. Not like him. He special in white man way. He know the white man things.So let us describe.De White Man Fear."

Desert office politics.

Robin Wyatt Dunn, always the poet of beauty and imagination, offers us a work of splendid topography. A dream, as poetry often simulates, is present within this work. Dunn travels the language of the Earth, its peopled history, to remind us (if we read carefully) that art and life are equal synonyms. The special thing about this collection is it is not only astonishing, it is bare and melancholy. They say sad songs achieve the best effects. This vivid verse compilation is sad, drifting, and mournful at once. The poet's exile is the chief image of the collection-as Christ Himself said, "A prophet is not without honor, except in his own country." A poet is home in his work. Here, Dunn both enumerates and interrogates the hidden dream we are too distracted to encompass; as simple souls in the brush, we do not wish to disturb the Universe. Yet Dunn did this for us. - Dustin Pickering, founder of Transcendent Zero Press - - And so with darkness, I read Dunn's manuscript contemplating my aches dangling free, albeit grisly and vanishing, "I'm leaving Los Angeles...the decision to love is like an old whisker...with my knife to your back...wracked runt and wired to the max." It is rather sardonically discerning to have these lines put into mind of that vexatious, dreamy, pulsating rhythm, the one which we all at some point or another, struggle to disembark from our conscious of atrophy and decay. Yet, somehow, no matter how vast its burgeoning rust and bankruptcy have eroded our remaining faith and goodness, we still carry on in this archival system of scatological shuffle into something far more dwelt in lies and privation, for we are but beings huddling together to pride ourselves the courage in the dark: I am a writer, but you write me. - Lana Bella, author of Adagio, Finishing Line Press, 2016

Kiss me, you're beautiful. Will you come to Night Island? I've been calling. Tell me, are you there? I am coming but I cannot say what it is; what are you? Do I understand it right, that you are reading me? My name is Dun; I am Dark Knight, I am Dark Island, from Night Island. These words hurt me but they are necessary; tell me, can you feel it too? That something is coming to an end? Hold my hand, won't you? This transmission, this dream, it frightens me--tell me, won't you, will it turn out all right? Will I be bright? And glorious? I am a knight though I do not serve a lord; I am anachronism; I am lost but I am moving. I am moving towards you. Tell me, do you see me yet? I'm coming!