Both umbilical & polymorphous, this procession of text engineers its own swarm intelligence that invites the reader to decode the blueprint for an empathic witness. This is not a spectator’s sport. This asks you to uncostume your bystander’s vantage & enter the dark wave as it is being snakecharmed. This asks if desire is truly a direction uncoupled from the aftermath of a bodied place. To perform this rune through its plurals, its fractals, its schematic hexes, its voluptuous amor fati as it cracks open the hourglass of its own critical intimacies. Owen’s work incarnates an elegant sharpness while plotting mini explosions throughout the cadence of its sprezzatura.
I can comfortably call the eye driving these poems indefatigable. And it is an eye that drives, more than a mind, more even than a heart; Everything, Desire is a space for seen architecture, seen plastic art, seen bodies to grow into / being complicated bodies. Line to line, fracture is regnant, as it is with eye-organ’s first encounter. To those who dare live in these poems, then, recalibration will be richly rewarding, if no less factious: ‘a curtain of / lowing and lowing