The symbolic order has faltered among a host of ecological crises. What is the distinction between a badger and its reference in a codex? What diet should omnivores embrace to prepare for linguistic cataclysm? In these poems, the bond between word and world dissolves in the centre of "a melting phone." Referent and reference flatten and reform into one creaturely whole. The globe is a poem. A poem is the earth. Both are a tomb. Enter The Unholy Moon and join with its strange “I” as it “shuffles through Anthropocene detritus.”
An Anthropogenic menagerie, a codex of euphonic cunning, Connor Fisher’s The Unholy Moon is not unlike moments of Revelation 6:12-14: “The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place.” This chapbook is pages of sky, pages of Sapphic snow. This chapbook is breathtaking, like the last trace of an omnivore; like a scalpel, a mirror, a panorama, or a rattlesnake’s song. These wondrous, imaginative poems are created from memories of a world in peril. In other words, should ‘Poet’ be a species, these poems are not-to-be-missed. Ongoing in its phenomenological wilderness, Fisher’s vision is not just one of language and perception, but it offers a poignant, fibrous idea of how earth and cosmos can saturate paper. How a poetic species can survive and be. - Paul Cunningham
20pp