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p.inman |
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"Peter Inman has
written in at.least. a painstakingly meticulous book that is both
clinically cold and unerringly humane. It is a bizarre, almost classic,
experiment which surprises and provokes (disturbingly) a sequence of sensations
that shakes us to our cognitive core, at least as to what words are and
how do we read them. That is to say, the poems run at different speed,
and there is no indication of the limits, just that one finds oneself
either reading dot to dot or stumbling over the pages like a sheet of
laser. at.least. is a hard core verbal preamble with such dialectic velocity
it leaves us dazed if not choking on the fumes. Corners are not beveled;
they are cut razor fine and held so tightly to one another as to gauge
the thin membranes of signs and cause them to leak meaning. If by the
end of the collection of poems Lenin, who makes several appearances as
an embodiment of thought and action, doesn't exactly "understand" the
work, he certainly would have commissioned P. Inman for a post in an Arts
Committee." |