Status Updates From The Midnight

spooky

In Nic Pizzolatto's True Detective Rust makes a comment to the effect that some linguists believe religion to be a language virus re-routing pathways through the brain, destroying critical thinking etc. Howe's poetry certainly re-routs the logic of language, opening words to previously unimagined syntactic structures. So disconcerting it's like looking into a new world with wonder every time I read her verse.

So much for the person. He started out a few pages ago. Now no one living remembers the fall of that voice from sound into silence. Who can tell what empirical perceptions really are? Veridical and delusive definitions shade into one another. All words run along the margins of their secrets.