Marsh Hawk Review
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Jon Curley Seven Poems Sculpt a skepticism and behold how it embeds the weight of futility in its wake. Be vigilant for varieties of non-indignant artifacts either indigenously blessed or potentially produced. Art-making is not the cure but a procedure to yield faith-giving forms. * Blasted heaths and institutions, perverse those universities given over to death-dealing instructions; healing is not only a process or state but a destination amid the lifeless landscapes, a thicket-ing/thickening plot of relentless creation. A forcefield of content set to bloom rather than shatter, to shelter, make or mend better. * Law of the excluded middle: if the barren binary is left to wither, translate the trans into a stance with better semblance. For they who are many are mostly you and I and We and They. Go (re-) figure. * A special dispensation: civil discord is discarded but only with the demise of the iron boot and Right angle geometry that merges an image of genocide with fasces-formed fraternity. Other- wise, no truce with the furies, the fascists, or complicits. * Among the missed opportunities that were once my friends: “solidarity,” “revelation,” & “transformation”: I send this signal in both enlightened envelope & light beam to you—which is to say ‘me,’ which was only ever us all anyhow. * The fragrance of fragments, the aroma of the ever-incomplete— of these I seek in the wake of finished forms that finalized the lifeless life that ever seemed the direst sign of retreat. * Ever supported by the ever departed, the endgame advocates fantasized our extinctions and inserted infections into our ears, minds, and wombs while calling it salvation. The infection was their hatred and their liturgy became Law. |
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