Head over to Fanzine for my review of Wong May’s Picasso’s Tears (Octopus Books, 2014).
“When navigating the violence and the verve of quick-changing (‘What was / I wearing ? / Remind me’) poet Wong May’s Picasso’s Tears, it’s admittedly difficult not to immediately think of Picasso himself: historically joined at the hip by his perplexing, tumoring gestures of bullfight, of Minotaur (‘Spanish for light-bulb / Is Bombila / Which also means Bomb’); war-horsing into a quixotic music hall fit for Marinetti (‘Beauty de-capitates’); consistently heavy basslines bayoneting forward and backwards (‘!Blind! / Between the fingers / Now / !JAB!’); stressed and distressed figures of chaos gradually materializing and dissolving again (‘2 young women lighting up in dark / & it isn’t by any wall. / It is under no tree’). It’s rather difficult to ignore all of these things when attempting to read this stunning, subtly crafted violence-cum-modicum cubist structuring of a hydra-like, Guernica-like language. A language of ‘deafening geography,’ of geometric intersecting planes, of knife-game !JAB!ing, of gamey blossoms, of disembodied limbs, of non-taste, of torn-off faces, of decapitated heads.”