Anon By Chris Pusateri
Anon records "soft static falling as forecast" and an ostensible caress that materializes as "an unpleasant repetition eroding his arm." Against the bleak banalities of this "experience in syndication," Chris Pusateri strikes back with a bracing admixture of silliness and patient intelligence. —Elizabeth Robinson
Anon records "soft static falling as forecast" and an ostensible caress that materializes as "an unpleasant repetition eroding his arm." Against the bleak banalities of this "experience in syndication," Chris Pusateri strikes back with a bracing admixture of silliness and patient intelligence. —Elizabeth Robinson
Anon records "soft static falling as forecast" and an ostensible caress that materializes as "an unpleasant repetition eroding his arm." Against the bleak banalities of this "experience in syndication," Chris Pusateri strikes back with a bracing admixture of silliness and patient intelligence. —Elizabeth Robinson
What's at stake in this book is nothing less than the fascination and frustration informing the felt distance between printed word and peopled world. With Pope-like precision, Pusateri would parlay “the me who is he” into a quick-witted poetic for our precarious times, each pointed sentence pointing up both an artifice “illuminated by its own refrain” and the shared punch lines of those who will “know which years were feast and which ones famished.” That would be us, people. Like this reader, readers will be sure to pilfer from anon, presently.
—Joe Amato
Anon records "soft static falling as forecast" and an ostensible caress that materializes as "an unpleasant repetition eroding his arm." Against the bleak banalities of this "experience in syndication," Chris Pusateri strikes back with a bracing admixture of silliness and patient intelligence. The result is "tricky scripture" whose "details breathe and carry you beyond the border of expertise." The tidiness of our despair is disrupted in anon by a better and more urgent "imbalance that makes the heart work harder."
—Elizabeth Robinson
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Chris Pusateri is the author of one book of poetry Berserker Alphabetics (xPressed, 2003) and five chapbooks. His poetry and critical prose have appeared in many publications, including American Book Review, Chicago Review, Jacket, Verse and others. A librarian by trade, he lives in Colorado with his partner, the poet Michelle Naka Pierce.
Book Information
· Paperback: 70 pages
· Binding: Perfect-Bound
· Publisher: BlazeVOX [books] (2008)
· ISBN: 1-934289-67-1