The visual component of this poem pushes the eyes and mind past what the eyes and mind want to do: that is, read it. The poem, therefore, places the mind in jeopardy. It asks what is the purpose of form. Is it for ease of just reading, or is it something else? Answer is: it is other. Here is a poetry that pushes a limit by combining a stream collage of writing with various constellations of other words knitted within its tapestry. It is a weave that occurs as it evolves and wonders always (among much else): How is writing living, how living writing is, and reading is writing and dreaming is writing also? You can't step into the same stream twice--Damn, that is refreshing!--Mike Basinski
A philosophical poem that swings, too--like John Dewey if he could play jazz saxophone. Lines sweep visually across the pages, broken into odd shapes and often in the middle of words. Other chunks of writing--some poetry, some quotes from granddaddies of American pragmatism like C.S. Peirce--further disrupt the flow that still, however, flows. This poetry moves, and it thinks, two activities that we don't have enough of.--Mark Wallace
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #4,
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Copyright Burning Press 1994, 1995.