Books
In Simona Blat’s chapbook Élan Vital, slant syllogisms fall like cosmic rays over blackcurrant and dill, rockets and toxic meat, Goethe and Darwin, showing us that a thought is not different from a garden, in both its creativity and its enigma. Part polemic, part ode to the natural and unnatural world, Blat’s poems borrow Henri Bergson’s notion of a “vital impetus” in considering the miraculous possibilities of the creative impulse in all its forms, in the light of a poisoned earth. In the end, the poems paradoxically manage to express an inexpressible, interstellar unity, “the type of light that all things run down.”
Funeral
In collaboration with Pixel Press, a letterpress studio in London, I printed and assembled a small book of poems about the death of the heart. Writing and making the book was a ceremony honoring the death of love. It was printed in a limited run of 100 copies.