One outreaches language in poetry when the inseeing elements of consciousness ask the unseen of life to come forward. My aim has been to unseat what we assume about time, about the verities of love and death, of the consciousness of those other sentient beings next to us on the planet. We must put aside the glib assumptions we make just to domesticate our walking-around days.
The kind of poetry that seeks a language beyond the very one in which it arrives may travel from edge to edge. It is provisional and can’t be too fussy about its sometimes awkward transport. In this pursuit, I find myself trying to out-leap what I can almost t say—but that, if said outright, would utterly spoil the secret cargo that must somehow halo what…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2019