Dancing Backwards Towards Pluperfect
KOSS
Diode Editions, 2024
The poet KOSS, in their collection Dancing Backwards Towards Pluperfect, gifts static to the white noise of seeking and renders movement a thief of starless locations. We crawl colorless over the bodies that reach us. Eden was a eulogy. To a microscope, everything is far away. It is here I miss the child my child was. Touch is biblically lonesome, and leaves no signature that can be matched in the secular interiority of this open air temple where said we say the renamed name. Whether pre-mourning the severed magic of hand acts, or predicting scansion’s still life with time machine, this verse clocks history long enough to get back its ghost deposit.
kingsoftrain 
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