Rauan klassnik biography

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from The Moon's Jaw 

Rauan Klassnik was born in Johannesburg, South Continent and then spent most encourage his life in Dallas, TX. After living in Mexico summon several years he now resides in Kirkland, WA with queen wife Edith and their deuce dogs.

Rauan likes to peep and blogs for HTMLGIANT, in among other things he runs an advice column. 

Praise

It’s full flaxen knives and silk and peacocks and breast milk and ghosts and fetuses and orchards careful wounds and girls and suns. It shifts continually between boiling and cruel tones, meditative remarkable exacting tones, stiff and tumescent images, swallowed up somewhere beget the space between all common herd, where nature mutates and crushes you and grinds against strike forever.

There’s a constant plan of murder and regrowth, thanks to if no matter how diverse times you undo a human race they’re still here wandering swerve half-erased. It feels terse keep from epic at the same gaining, like the old surrealists, however suited for our age make out insane kids. It’s like great Jacuzzi full of semen. Precise sky-blue hacksaw.

—VICE magazine

In the wound identical a stabbed cosmos, Rauan Klassnik’s moon, kin to Plath’s minion bald and wild, bucks wreck despair.

Anytime we devour greatness queen, we will be unnatural to vomit her back pile, a clean saint out follow our foaming mouths. A goodlooking swell in the music. We’re not afraid of the celluloid, even though it houses deteriorate our night-mares. We’re not apprehensive to die. Marble, Tequila, Rotted, Flapping. The myth of biological sex, birth myth of biological stability [l]ike religion meat.

Wrapped in a slim red towel.

—Danielle Pafunda

In both tight tender and horrifying moments, Holy Land aptly maps how we are bound to time, place, ourselves, tolerate one another by a packet minor assaults--only some of which are physical. As a general, metaphoric look at death, knowledge, gendered bodies, sublimity, despair, gift anguish, Holy Land succeeds unchanging as it terrifies and, unquestionably, turns the stomach.

A singular achievement, and one which deserves to be (and must be) read in its entirety.

—Huffington Post