Poetry. "We place our ears to the apocalypse." Destruction, recreation, destruction again. The bonds of humanity are found in the clash of rams, conflict that erupts into a cleft of life, a rupture that creates a beautiful revelation. What happens when the self is destroyed? That is the question Josh Fomon explores in his debut collection THOUGH WE BLED METICULOUSLY. This initial catastrophe, both macro and microcosmic, is the nucleus of the exploration, but what matters is the centrifugal rays the discoveries in survival."
Gentle surrealism with a dash of post apocalyptic nuance. Quintessential or typical of mid 2010s American poetry, where there is more automatic writing with strangeness in word pairings that sound beautiful and mean either everything or nothing. A nice long read.
His vocabulary can be excessive and nonsensical but there are a couple of gems in here. The beginning probably had the best bit of poetry in the book. I feel bad for any literary magazine or journal that had to accommodate his style of sentence structure (think of an attempt at e.e. cummings).