Gør som tusindvis af andre bogelskere
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In a descent toward what might make our epoch sing in its most falsetto pitch, Vincenz troubles our ears by running a narrative script thru it to plumb its bottom. In a word, the theft of his own ear has felt its echo disguise upon disguise to make these poems carom off one another thence to settle into their proper end. Thieves' Canto is a return from any meta-beyond back into our world, or, "Present Patience." - t thilleman
Traverse lunarscapes and earthly seasonal time-spaces in this liminal peek into the galaxy of our mortality.
In America, we tend to look at poetry written in English in siloed ways, according to rubrics that allow for distinct academic distinctions and syllabi and the logic of reviews, and also because our poets have answered the conditions of American life and history, our diversity, the history of racism, our relationship to the world as a global power, colonialism, the post-colonial sympathies of thinking Americans, and Empire itself. We don't necessarily have the conceptual equipment to perceive the nuances of Anglophone poetry, which is so like the proliferation of Greek language poetry across the classical world, when it diverges from the stories that we feel we need to understand to make the world a better place, and even when there could be a path through existing intellectual infrastructure, if we are reading in America, we don't necessarily stumble upon the new book, say, by the Zimbabwean poet Togara Muzanenhamo published in England. Then there are also poets like Vincenz who work from the centers of multiple traditions, but who are in some ways artistically stateless because of the idiosyncratic natures of their poetic biographies
As the title implies, he ponders our destination while reveling in the journey, mixing the quotidian and thequixotic with his trademark quicksilver facility. Wondrous.
There is, as Bob Grumman termed it, the knownstream; then there is the otherstream, a raging subterranean river of literary lava. It bursts through to an unsuspecting public in Warholian, beat, and Dadaesque and Sadean eruptions--a few readers live to tell the tale and the rest never know what hit them. Welcome to Shadows of the Future. Here you have Chris Mansel and his he/she serial killers, Marc Vincenz's Swiss-Chinese eyes, Sheila Murphy ripping zen a new one, C. Brannon Watts with blood in his mouth, mIEKAL aND's Unglish, Annie Pluto's words entwined like lovers, Camille Baco's spare music, Marie-Marcia Casoly's fleshy skeletons, John M. Bennett's muy orthography, Sarah Sarai's mellifluous light, and Joani Reese's evanescence. Carol Novack calls from from the other side and Jack Foley calls from any coast he wants. Jeffrey Side's words looks knowlingly upon the festivities, Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's poems pulse like his recordings, and Susan Lewis's pivots the prose poetics at impossible new angles. And there are more of us, of course, because Otherstream is more, even de trop, or monk minimalist, as it wants. Ask Jake Berry, who rules our online haunts like a happy Pluto handing out inheritances. Yes, we are legion. Like it. Otherstream is where every significant literature was born, midwifed by a writer who asked, looking at a new syntax and/or semantics, how can I write like that, never worrying about the may. Like all poets, but perhaps more extreme, we seek the new perspective, though our sense, sounds, and sentences, broken or not.
Vincenz is a prolific author and translatorHe is the editor of MadHat Press & publisher of New American WritingHe will organize a zoom tour for the book and a regional in person tour
Part travelogue, part love song, and part meditative reflection, these poems take us on a profound journey through inner and outer space.
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