[OR]

by Brian Henderson

[OR] might be a collection of cipher poems. Or not. The tension of appearance inheres in it, and ciphertexts seem to abound. As the poems take up their concealing/revealing, coded/decoded, intelligence/counter-intelligence themes, borders and borderlands appear, are crossed, or are closed. Many of the borderlands turn out to be their own interiors – “secret” workings of the codes ghosting through them. Are they abject castoffs, lost possibilities, proscribed mutations, or future events?

Codes are hidden everywhere, sliding through the atmosphere, slipping into microwave towers, handheld devices, nervous systems, brains, retinas, bar codes, antimissile systems, the antennae of DNA, the traces of virtual particles, the Chauvet Cave drawings, your Twitter account. Each broaches a transformative version of its own transduction. The buck never stops. And since it’s been documented that perception happens before we know it (Benjamin Libet), and the future might already have happened, these poems ask what this might mean – especially in an accelerated, “semio-inflated” world of signs, words, and information.

Maybe it’s no wonder that the poems use tropes from spy thrillers and code breakers. In them a character may have been murdered, or moved to another dimension. Along the way strange perturbations occur to narrative and its others: memory, (prosthetic memory), dream, reportage, code, a little history of the future, déjà vu, paramnesia, the virtual – versions, evasions, and alternatives. Each poem gets read a few times, its code deciphered or ciphered back up. Some of the poems decay. Each reader reads his or her own poem and encodes it for another. What communication crosses out, these poems try to find. They might ask “What is reading?” while at the same time “Who are you?” In asking they acknowledge fragility, and in fragility, suggests William E. Connolly, lies the beginning of freedom.

144 pages, Paperback

First published November 11, 2014

About the author

Brian Henderson is the author of twelve volumes of poetry, the most recent of which is Unidentified Poetic Object from Brick Books. Sharawadji (Brick Books, 2011), was nominated for the Canadian Authors Association Chambers Award for Poetry. Nerve Language (Pedlar Press, 2007) was a finalist for the Governor General's Literary Award. Henderson's work, both critical and poetic, has appeared in a number of literary journals. He holds a PhD in Canadian literature, is the past director of Wilfrid Laurier University Press, and lives in Grey Highlands, Ontario, with his wife, Charlene.

Reviews

[UnControlled Pen · Rating 5 out of 5]

[OR] By: Brian Henderson.

This is a well crafted poetry book; I found it not to be of the multiple tones of emotions, but one controlled. I found Brian Henderson words are patient, careful not to focus on sadness, but the perspective of persevering. The book layout is setup as if the book needs to be decoded, which always feels you’re missing something. First, focus on the poems; they speak of wars, the activity of spy and government. His poems are colorful, accommodated by nature’s precise temperament.

So, this book reads for me as a book that is personal, one that each individual will listen as they read and hear. Hear the pain, lost, and hopelessness, but you then feel the persevering of finding peace within. It’s not poems you’ll hear around a campfire or roundtable, but those poems you hear when you walk into a cave and ask the old man or the young child, “What has happen here?” and be amazed.

I received this book through Goodreads First Reads.

[Neo · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoy poetry so wanted to read this book and loved every minute of it. This to me was a quick read and caught my attention with me understanding the words. I am passing this one to my neighbor to read and hope everyone gets a chance to read it.

[M.W.P.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

As if you were seeing microwaves
a circuit magnified in night vision
the locket clasps a cursive of.

You placed in gently on the NKVD tea service
silver on silver without its corrosion
everything polished of noise but your answer.

How could you have carried
such a curse for so long without it
searing into your throat?

Everyone knows there have been whispers
but now this silence, high up in the heart
frozen breath stream ciphered.

- Cirrus, pg. 8

* * *

as if you were seeing microwaves
a circuit magnified in night vision
the locket clasps a cursive of

You placed in gently on the NKVD tea service
silver on silver without its corrosion
everything polished of noise but your answer.

How could you have carried
such a curse for so long without it
searing into your throat?

Everyone knows there have been whispers
but now this silence high up in the heart
frozen breath stream ciphered.

- pg. 9

* * *

I want you to know that the rendezvous, though it
happened, could never happen. Intricately implicated code
organelles transmuted the moon encrypted on the river.
Anamnesis thrives in that light, plunged
deep into the breast of the diary. When we
harvest the known, the unknown
grows wild, reciphers itself with new locks
long before the gate - pitch and throng
by the gate everlasting.
Please forget you were a carrier
as the crowds go apoplectic in Alexanderplatz
and the authorities stiffen their knees
after their underground dreaming.

- Not Decoded, pg. 53

* * *

I want you to know that the rendezvous, though it
happened, could never happen. Intricately implicated code
organelles transmuted the moon encrypted on the river.
Anamnesis thrives in that light, plunged
deep into the breast of the diary. When we
harvest the known, the unknown
grows wild, reciphers itself with new locks
long before the gate - pitch and throng
by the gate everlasting.
Please forget you were a carrier
as the crowds go apoplectic in Alexanderplatz
and the authorities stiffen their knees
after their underground dreaming.

- pg. 54

* * *

Nucleotide whispers and water
pulling its sheets up over
us, and the metabolism of metal -
no final spell or perjury valence -
even under wands of sleep,
the hell and heaven of the swarm
glistening through us, our arms
outstretched like open mouths'
microbial syllables' lure.

They would have had to take it all back
had we not woken up at least once.

We are branded with their dreaming
while out on the periphery an unknown
intermittent object triumphs.

- Unknown Object, pg. 88

* * *

Nucleotide whispers and water
pulling its sheets up over
us, and the metabolism of metal -
no final spell or perjury valence
even under wands of sleep,
the hell and heaven of the swarm
glistening through us, our arms
outstretched like open mouths'
microbial syllables lure

They would have had to take it all back
had we not woken up at least once.

We are branded with their dreaming
while out on the periphery an unknown
intermittent object triumphs

- pg. 89

[Aubrey · Rating 2 out of 5]

I am not very good with poetry but, I decided to give this book a shot any way. I struggled to fully understand it. Although, I'm proud to say that I was able to understand bits and pieces of it though. The "Notes on the Poems" section at the end of the book helped me understand them better.

**NOTE: This is a book that I won through a goodreads giveaway**

[Jessica · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wasn't a fan of this book because it was a bit confusing, not use to this style of writing.