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November 14, 2019 / barton smock

{ Meteorites – poems – S. Brook Corfman }


poems, S. Brook Corfman
Doublecross Press, 2018


Perhaps I feared they would vanish, the poems in S. Brook Corfman’s Meteorites.  Or that I would remember them incorrectly.  Or even maybe I feared that I would pretend to lose my memory so as to read them for the first time again, only to misplace the book and be left with my forgetting.  All of the above is also none.  As in, I fail to pinpoint.  As in, location is a failure of becoming.  Here is what I half-know:  reading these poems will stand you up, and rereading these poems will walk you to where they baptize gravity with birdthings.  As one who is so briefly present, and often late to insomnia, I am grateful for the alien commonalities of Corman’s verse as they survive earthly inquiry and require that one be either awake to humanness or be at…

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