"I have nowhere to go / that isn't automatically written language." Is there such a thing as surrealist meditation? Non-narrative autobiography? In Perry's elusive yet eminently chaseable poems, "hallucinations prowl the baseboards and molding, never to see in themselves any sense except subliminally." Under shifting, disjunctive surfaces, Perry examines self, history and language, reminding us of the insupportability of each.
还没人写过短评呢