Contemporary Canadian poetry got you down? Well, we'd like to prescribe a little Hello Serotonin, the latest in mood-enhancing poetry anti-depressants. This new book of poems from Jon Paul Fiorentino operates within the constraints of what he terms 'synaptic syntax' - poetry that performs the very nature of neuronal activity from the point of view of a mood-enhanced Human Comedy, which, with a quick turn of phrase, or missing neurotransmitter, could become Human Tragedy. Filled with a witty, self-deprecating and often Andy Kaufmanesque sense of humour, Hello Serotonin is today's generation of pharmaceutical poetry, and will alter your perception of therapeutic poetics. Get your prescription filled today!

In the early nineties, Beck sang 'I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?' and changed everything. Suddenly, it wasn't so bad to be a nerd or an oddball; loser chic had begun. Ten years later, after all the computer nerds have had the last laugh, Jon Paul Fiorentino turns to Thorstein Veblen's seminal social science text from 1899, The Theory of the Leisure Class. Veblen's book introduced to our culture the terms 'conspicuous consumption' and 'nouveau riche'; it identified a new demographic, the leisure class, and demarcated its position in culture. The Theory of the Loser Class, then, is an art manifesto for the aesthetics and ethics of loser culture. If the Anthony Michael Hall character in The Breakfast Club wrote poems (and, deep down, you know that he did), they'd probably read a lot like The Theory of the Loser Class. Drawing on texts ranging from Thorstein Veblen's groundbreaking The Theory of the Leisure Class to Star Wars (the nerd Bible) for inspiration, this carefully crafted suite of poems documents the tribulations and insecurities of everyone's inner geek.Fiorentino maps the psychic territory of abjection across the shopworn spaces of suburban Winnipeg, where a landscape of aging strip malls, burned-out houses and living rooms littered with video-game consoles serves as a mirror to the inner states of urban ennui among the socially inept and the culturally vexed. By turns compassionate, funny and filled with selfloathing, The Theory of the Loser Class is never without the possibility of redemption; 'And if a loser falls,' says the narrator of 'Right in the Spine,' 'I feel it.' The Theory of the Loser Class is the perfect soundtrack for the alienated and the hopeless.

Leaving Mile End is Jon Paul Fiorentino's seventh collection of poetry and tenth book-a collection of poems that documents the daily din and clatter of cafés, galleries, and dive bars that make up Mile End in Montreal, perhaps the most artistically vibrant neighbourhood in the world. But this is no ordinary tour-we take a sharp turn and go online as Fiorentino mines the peculiar linguistic resources of a new world of doxxing, swatting, snarking, trolling, catfishing, and shaming. While addressing the disconnect between the way we treat each other online and the way we treat each other IRL, Leaving Mile End provides a new framework for understanding what it means to be home in 2017. Praise for Fiorentino's poetry: "[Fiorentino's poetry] is the embodiment of an imagination so wild, a wit so sharp and a sense of humour so dark." (Montreal Gazette) "There is no mistaking Fiorentino's sharp wit and precise vocabulary, which are entirely individual-something far too few writers can claim." (Quill & Quire)

The characters in I'm not Scared of You or Anything are invigilators, fake martial arts experts, buskers, competitive pillow fighters, drug runners, and, of course, grad students. This collection of comedic short stories and exploratory texts is the ninth book by the critically acclaimed and award-winning author Jon Paul Fiorentino. Deftly illustrated by Maryanna Hardy, these texts ask important questions, like: How does a mild mannered loser navigate the bureaucratic terrain of exam supervision? What happens when you replace the text of Christian Archie comics with the text of Hélène Cixous? And, most important of all, what would it be like if Mr. Spock was a character in the HBO series GIRLS?

With links to intense poetic works like John Berryman's Dream Songs, Gilbert Sorrentino's Corrosive Sublimate and Erin Moure's Furious, Jon Paul Fiorentino's new collection is a whip-smart poetic investigation of anxiety in all its many manifestations. Anxiety caused by geography, anxieties of influence and looming worries about loss inform the poems as they weave narrative threads and associations that highlight both the treachery of language and its necessity in shaping human experience: 'All roads, side roads/all text, signage/All seasons, autumn/ all memories, winter.' The poems here build on Derrida's ideas about the psychological implications of memory and the archival impulse and on philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce's semiotics of 'the index.' Indexical Elegies is a rich, emotionally charged work that showcases Fiorentino's talents at their feisty, engaged best. From its Post-Prairie pamphleteering and its comic Montreal musings to its moving elegies, this is provocative poetry that never loses touch with the reader's pleasure.

Contemporary Canadian poetry got you down? Well, we'd like to prescribe a little Hello Serotonin, the latest in mood-enhancing poetry anti-depressants. This new book of poems from Jon Paul Fiorentino operates within the constraints of what he terms 'synaptic syntax' - poetry that performs the very nature of neuronal activity from the point of view of a mood-enhanced Human Comedy, which, with a quick turn of phrase, or missing neurotransmitter, could become Human Tragedy. Filled with a witty, self-deprecating and often Andy Kaufmanesque sense of humour, Hello Serotonin is today's generation of pharmaceutical poetry, and will alter your perception of therapeutic poetics. Get your prescription filled today!

In the early nineties, Beck sang 'I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?' and changed everything. Suddenly, it wasn't so bad to be a nerd or an oddball; loser chic had begun. Ten years later, after all the computer nerds have had the last laugh, Jon Paul Fiorentino turns to Thorstein Veblen's seminal social science text from 1899, The Theory of the Leisure Class. Veblen's book introduced to our culture the terms 'conspicuous consumption' and 'nouveau riche'; it identified a new demographic, the leisure class, and demarcated its position in culture. The Theory of the Loser Class, then, is an art manifesto for the aesthetics and ethics of loser culture. If the Anthony Michael Hall character in The Breakfast Club wrote poems (and, deep down, you know that he did), they'd probably read a lot like The Theory of the Loser Class. Drawing on texts ranging from Thorstein Veblen's groundbreaking The Theory of the Leisure Class to Star Wars (the nerd Bible) for inspiration, this carefully crafted suite of poems documents the tribulations and insecurities of everyone's inner geek.Fiorentino maps the psychic territory of abjection across the shopworn spaces of suburban Winnipeg, where a landscape of aging strip malls, burned-out houses and living rooms littered with video-game consoles serves as a mirror to the inner states of urban ennui among the socially inept and the culturally vexed. By turns compassionate, funny and filled with selfloathing, The Theory of the Loser Class is never without the possibility of redemption; 'And if a loser falls,' says the narrator of 'Right in the Spine,' 'I feel it.' The Theory of the Loser Class is the perfect soundtrack for the alienated and the hopeless.

Leaving Mile End is Jon Paul Fiorentino's seventh collection of poetry and tenth book-a collection of poems that documents the daily din and clatter of cafés, galleries, and dive bars that make up Mile End in Montreal, perhaps the most artistically vibrant neighbourhood in the world. But this is no ordinary tour-we take a sharp turn and go online as Fiorentino mines the peculiar linguistic resources of a new world of doxxing, swatting, snarking, trolling, catfishing, and shaming. While addressing the disconnect between the way we treat each other online and the way we treat each other IRL, Leaving Mile End provides a new framework for understanding what it means to be home in 2017. Praise for Fiorentino's poetry: "[Fiorentino's poetry] is the embodiment of an imagination so wild, a wit so sharp and a sense of humour so dark." (Montreal Gazette) "There is no mistaking Fiorentino's sharp wit and precise vocabulary, which are entirely individual-something far too few writers can claim." (Quill & Quire)

The characters in I'm not Scared of You or Anything are invigilators, fake martial arts experts, buskers, competitive pillow fighters, drug runners, and, of course, grad students. This collection of comedic short stories and exploratory texts is the ninth book by the critically acclaimed and award-winning author Jon Paul Fiorentino. Deftly illustrated by Maryanna Hardy, these texts ask important questions, like: How does a mild mannered loser navigate the bureaucratic terrain of exam supervision? What happens when you replace the text of Christian Archie comics with the text of Hélène Cixous? And, most important of all, what would it be like if Mr. Spock was a character in the HBO series GIRLS?

With links to intense poetic works like John Berryman's Dream Songs, Gilbert Sorrentino's Corrosive Sublimate and Erin Moure's Furious, Jon Paul Fiorentino's new collection is a whip-smart poetic investigation of anxiety in all its many manifestations. Anxiety caused by geography, anxieties of influence and looming worries about loss inform the poems as they weave narrative threads and associations that highlight both the treachery of language and its necessity in shaping human experience: 'All roads, side roads/all text, signage/All seasons, autumn/ all memories, winter.' The poems here build on Derrida's ideas about the psychological implications of memory and the archival impulse and on philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce's semiotics of 'the index.' Indexical Elegies is a rich, emotionally charged work that showcases Fiorentino's talents at their feisty, engaged best. From its Post-Prairie pamphleteering and its comic Montreal musings to its moving elegies, this is provocative poetry that never loses touch with the reader's pleasure.