Memory as Void

by Ross Brighton

Submergence into a voided chamber of direct-address. The landscape abandoned like god. Shouting, cries. Towards a psychic landscape of the absence of/from a city destroyed by an earthquake and bled dry in the face of death, and the simultaneous presence and absence of memory as void, as temporal rift.

Unknown Binding

First published October 4, 2013

About the author

The author of beck: nothing, can be done (Publication Studio Malmö, Sweden, 2013), Lullaby for David Mitchell (Forthcoming from Electio Editions, Australia), Temporal Maze Denture (above/ground press, Canada, as part of the 5th Dusie Kolektiv, 2011), A Draft from Birds (&then&then, New Zealand, 2010) and A Pelt a Shrub a Soil Sample (Neoismist Press, NZ, 2009) His work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Turbine, Minarets, Potroast, Side Stream, Brief , Catalyst (all NZ), Otoliths (Aus), Meat Confetti, Reconfigurations, No Tell Motel, Action Yes, unarmed (all US), Bad Robot (UK) Dusie (Switzerland), and Cruce (Puerto Rico). He is former reviews editor for the US-based journal Tarpaulin Sky, and completed a Masters in Creative Writing at the University of Auckland in 2011.

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Reviews

[Anders Næss · Rating 2 out of 5]

uppercased post-apocalypse:

”THERE IS A LAMB BEDDED DOWN ASLEEP IN A NEST MADE OF HUMAN LIMBS. BLOOD CLOTS IN ITS WOOL. IT IS THE MOST PEACEFUL THING ON THIS BARREN EARTH.”

”HOME IS NOT INSIDE OUR RIB CAGE, IT IS A SUBTERRANEAN PENURY.”