Mimesis Flash & Simulacra

These poems don't describe experience — they interrogate the machinery of description itself. What happens between the thing and the word for the thing. What gets lost in the translation and whether the loss is tragedy or revelation or both simultaneously.

The question underneath every poem the same question — is this the thing or the copy of the thing and does the distinction still hold and what do we do if it doesn't.

But never cold. Never purely cerebral. The philosophical architecture is always carrying something warm and human and urgent inside it. A person trying to find themselves in the mirror corridor and discovering the reflections have opinions. A mind that thinks faster than the available language and keeps bumping into the edges of what words can hold.

Funny sometimes. Unsettling often. Precise always.

The flash of the title is the camera flash and the flash of insight and the flash of something glimpsed and already gone before you could name it. The mimesis is the reaching. The simulacra is what you're left holding when the reaching is done.

Poetry for people who have stood in a hall of mirrors and felt something true there.

Which is everyone.

Whether they know it or not.