- Paperback: 240 pages
- Publisher: Ellipsis Press (May 1, 2013)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 0963753681
- ISBN-13: 978-0963753687
- Product Dimensions: 7 x 1 x 9.8 inches
- Shipping Weight: 1.1 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
- Average Customer Review: 1 customer review
- Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #7,639,264 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
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About the Author
Alan Davies is the author of many books of poetry, including NAME (This Press, 1986), ACTIVE 24 HOURS (Roof Books, 1982), RAVE (Roof Books, 1994), CANDOR [a collection of book reports and poems] (O Books, 1990), SIGNAGE [critical theory] (Roof Books, 1987)—and the more recent ODES (Faux Press, 2008), RAW WAR (Subpress, 2012), and ODES & FRAGMENTS (Ellipsis Press, 2013). He is working on a long sequence of Books, an ongoing journal of ideas called This Is Thinking, and an essay exploring war entitled "Why?! PerpetualGenocide."
Top customer reviews
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What would make for a perfect verse to quote: "And the casual abandonment/ Of abandoning what is casual/ For what is abandoned(...)" Davies disallows, attaching where the ellipsis are in my extraction, ",in".
A poem I like very much, "Today As A Way of Escape" contained the lines, "Into the days' worst enemies (the days) and the nights' worst enemies (the nights) / So that memory eats itself like the soil of the enemy and suffering is only the / Answer to the question about suffering and people keep saying that life isn't fair," which continues with the ironic permutation: "But saying so isn't fair either (dammit!)" before turning into "so flut the shuck up (maddit!) or sleep..." once again the ellipsis are mine, and they are Davies' horizontal totem, as he traffics in the oblique, elliptical, parenthetical gray matter reliquaries of thoughts not pushing too hard against the vacuum (as that has already been done, so why exert the energy?), concepts that cannot escape their own vague, distended procurement and manifestation, flowing down the page from the original absence of color in the standard typefaces we try to use to dress up things we try to say in writing. These are poems aggregated from the stammers in the conversation when you have to pause to override your ego before you become a bore, watching what you say because no one has anything to say and the cigarettes are out, so the chatter is really just basic maneuvers around subjecting the other parties to your desire and attachment, accepting the inherent implausibility of an existence that draws its meaning from its lack there of while trying to exist that way.
A couplet worthy of cummings: "AS LOVE IS ALL THAT THIS IS OF THAT / WHEN THAT IS THAT"; the perfect: "with nothing new to say / and with no words to say it" leading to a poem that harnesses at times the remarkable beauty of the deepest human connections, even as they are born away from us, "as all is understood / nothing is forgiven / nor need be".
This probably says it all: "the very provisional/ here".