Ah, Portland. Village on the Willamette. Microbrewery capital of the world. Stumptown. Rip City. And, of course, the Rose Garden—and what an intriguing assortment of roses to be picked. Taking a trip through the latest issue of eye~rhyme is like having an impatient child pull you through a circus of kerosene-doused cannibals at a Sunday stroll’s pace. This anarchic, bipolar spirit can be found everywhere in this anthology of the Portland arts scene. It’s in Nick Jaina’s “Sadness: A Field Guide,” which uses dead-on conceits to describe obsessively every way of being down in the dumps. Under Lethargy: “This is a poor excuse for sadness. This is dragging a sack of tuba bells behind you. Where are you taking them?” It’s in “Night Soil: Interviewing Walt Curtis,” in which the famed local bard Curtis fidgets, curses, and refuses to go along with the setup, resulting in a meta-interview that reads like a comedy of the absurd with dialogue penned by Edward Albee. And it’s ripe in every line of poetry from “You are a drunk / if her breasts mean more / than food, your next cigarette” (Matt Sorenson) to “I know that death is just another / way of changing the geography” (Curtis). Call it what you will: I still find myself caught between mellowness and hysterical abandon every time I pick this little book up. To top it off, eye~rhyme is eco-friendly, printed on recycled paper with soy-based ink, providing for a truly alternative read.