RC Miller exists as a real human being.
I know this because I have had a multitude of email exchanges with him and because his new chapbook GORE is existing in my hands right now.
However, if you have ever read any of his work, you might get the feeling that he tries very hard to defy any sense of tangible existing self.
His poems, to me, start from the perspective of a presence observing memories in a room, recording.
Words are assembled with the purpose of diluting the obviousness of things.
A nebulous persona is formed to speak from the mind of the void, making simplistic observational statements of abstractness.
The poems, formally and visually, have a great sense of hard-earned integrity which help fuse these intentions:
Each line is so ambiguous or nonsensical that it calls into question the entire purpose of the poem.
No line in any poem is gibberish.
Each line is carefully crafted and grammatically correct.
The collection of lines that comprise each poem always seem to be mathematically perfect. Balanced in number of both words and letters.
Each poem is a consolidated piece of value.
Each poem is a segment of your last unrecognized thought.
Each poem is a perfectly organized clutter of words.
Each poem is a complete aesthetic structure of words.
The chapbook is a hurling shrapnel of cauterized hope.
As an object, it feels like an electric blue, sterilized zine-compilation of religious pamphlets on steroids that you are watching on TV.
This is a must have for anyone following the evolution of poetry as a fundamental facet of the human spirit.
Much respect to Calliope Nerve Media for having the balls and good sense to publish this hurling shrapnel of cauterized hope.