Rick Lupert

Poetry • Spoken Word • Jewish

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher


Death of a Mauve Bat:  The Poet’s Experiences in, and on the way to and from, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

“I know of no other poet able to establish intimacy with the reader as fast as Lupert. If this is your first experience of his work, I urge you to receive him as you would any friend of a friend.”

~ Brendan Constantine

Rick Lupert’s brings you back to the hidden Canada in the follow up to his 2011 collection, Sinzibuckwud! written in Montreal, Death of a Mauve Bat steers you through Toronto and Niagara Falls with Lupert’s one of a kind satirical filter. You’ll learn Toronto like no-one ever should. You’ll climb an unfinished castle, drink a blue drink, mosey in and out of the requisite museums and wonder at the ekphrastic glories that are revealed. You’ll wander the streets in search of vegetarian hot dogs and stand in the lights which illuminated the most famous funnytarians of our time. Throw away your guidebook, bring this instead. (okay, maybe bring both.) This is travelogue poetry for the 21st century.

(160 Pages, Ain’t Got No Press, January 2012)

Poetry from Death of a Mauve Bat

Second Contact

Black Volkswagen Rabbit passes us
the driver and passenger against the headrests
in a manner too comfortable for serious driving.
They are either dead or Canadian.
It is hard to tell under these circumstances.

Halfway there

The road is long.
We have crossed the Cohocton River

half a dozen times.
Everything is green.

The roofs on the houses
The clusters of trees that know history

better than me
The fleet of John Deeres

Some say, in certain light,
even my eyes.

We are only half way but already
some license plates say Ontario.

Motley Crüe is on the radio (Dr. Feel Good)
we are saved by Zeppelin.

I see a state trooper.
It would be un-holy to be pulled over

during Led Zeppelin
a sign says Rochester 50 miles

I see you.
I see you.

Ekphrastia Gone Wild

One of the most naked statues ever
is Rodin’s Adam

Oh the huge balls
the impressionist ass

The Bassist

up and
his instrument
like it’s the
freedom trail
the road home.

A World Wonder

So this is it
a world wonder”
Niagara Falls.

We don disposable blue ponchos
and ride an elevator to a boat
which takes us into the mist.

Across the river
America, land of the me,
home of the…

Signals are bouncing.
our cell phones can’t decide
what country they are in.

The world dies a little
as we put on our second
disposable poncho of the day.

We are preparing to go
Behind the Falls. I am
reminded of the joke

on the Jungle Cruise where
They take you behind the Falls
and call it the back side of water.

Addie says
she is thirsty.
I point.

Even the Amish are here
Behind the Falls.  Everyone
wants to see God’s wonders.

We are an army dressed in
yellow plastic. The enemy is the wet.
The poncho, our defense.

More gallons of water pass
in front of us than we can count.
We could power Toronto,

build a Casa Loma
get in a barrel and pray.
We wouldn’t want to count.

At the end you can buy
anything with the words
Niagara Falls on it

a shot glass
a thimble
a picture of you.

In the right restaurant here
they’ll carve your image into a steak.
They’ll make a gravy falls,

a mashed potato Mist Maid.
I keep forgetting I’m not in America.
I wish everyone would forget.

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