Aaron Tieger, Chaos Flowers
73 pages. ISBN 978-1-907489-08-2
Advance praise for Chaos Flowers:
Aaron Tieger’s Chaos Flowers is the music of chorus & corrosion. Everyday dissonance tuned, turning, and returning to the ing in things that verbs and nouns share. The what and the doing. No ideas but in things, sure, but a spare shared lexicon defining significance by what precedes or follows and who’s keeping score, in syntax and in observation, because, things do things. These tectonics reveal as much in collision as division, There are things you choose between. Gaps and overlaps distinguishing our capacities when the cracks show through, We only do so much / so little love to lose. All is moving, mutable and as unobvious as the everyday is lulling and sacred where Deepening selves persist as our individual north star – just when we need it most.
Soundbites, given the worldly incisors that Mr Tieger chews with, prove to have as much verb as noun about them in these condensed poems of quiet, intense attention. Their sounds do bite. Cutting their teeth on the mobile air, they indent the sky, imprint the skin, register fresh messages on the answerphone. They advance by sounding out the fluid limits in which things reveal each other rather than define themselves, opening the door on tomorrow clean / for visiting. It’s a version of New England that Thoreau himself might have happily walked to find or Pete Seeger sung about.
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