The Crisis of Infinite Worlds
The Crisis of Infinite Worlds is saving my stupid ass.
The Crisis of Infinite Worlds , a kind of lullaby arranging the psychic terrain of my future prosodically, is saving my stupid ass.
Thinking not porn sweetly dreaming, I would love to be made not to dream, or be dreaming of a liberated psyche I could rinse of any meaning.
In The Crisis of Infinite Worlds, Dana’s picked up his dream and dragged it out to meet its other in the world. I should write a real blurb with real blurb-like things in it, but The Crisis of Infinite Worlds , a kind of lullaby arranging the psychic terrain of my future prosodically, won’t let me do it. Dana’s picked up his dream and dragged it out to meet its other in the world.
I have to go wake up the baby."
"In his second full collection of 'I do I do' poems, Dana Ward renews his vows to his avocations, a panoply of this and that, becoming and unbecoming, worlds. Autodidact and knight-errant, Ward often betrays the procedural forms he tries to impose on his labyrinthine ruminations in order to remain faithfully engaged to the traditional task of the post-Romantic poet, an 'ecstatic commingling' of okay-you know and 'starry anaphor.' Though Ward’s high-resolution convictions almost blind him to the shadows cast by his doubts, sturdy, exuberant pieces like 'A Trip Back in Time' and 'The Tiniest New York City of Itself' illuminate, even as they shield, the dazzling sleights-of-hand of this wizard of words and Word(!)."
"Reading Dana reminds me of watching Fellini’s 'La Dolce Vita' in the U Tennessee-Chattanooga auditorium when I was 19. I thought if I could stay there and watch it over and over it would pass through me and cradle me and I would exhale tapestried ontologies and everyone would loom toward my body as in 'I heard a fly buzz when I died'; I would be the most knowing and glamorous baby. I can’t help imitating Dana badly as I write this blurb and imagine myself invisible in his gin. He found the inhale-exhale hinge and painted it gold television. Please just keep writing, Dana, I want to read you forever. You are lush and expressive while being hardcore aware of pressures from recent avant-gardes on expressive moves. You hand us this blowzy amazing smelling thorny sparkle-lotioned red rose."
"For Dana Ward, narrative is no linear journey, but a state of being, where meaning zooms into clarity then retreats, wave upon wave of it, like God bits bursting into life from the vast emptiness of space. “Teen Vogue has described the violent establishment of heaven on earth as the sun coming out with no clouds the last time.” I love how thick this writing is, sublimely claustrophobic yet expansive, like a child’s nightmare of scale."
DANA WARD is the author of several books of poetry including This Can’t Be Life (Edge Books) & Some Other Deaths of Bas Jan Ader (Forthcoming from Flowers & Cream). He lives in Cincinnati where he hosts the Cy Press Poetry @ Thunder Sky reading series, & edits, along with Paul Coors, Perfect Lovers Press.
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