Yusupova serves us the daily bread of deadly dog bites in the forest and abrupt head-bashings in the entryway and the casual dismissal of an eager new face at the beautifully named the Center for Gender Problems. For what Yusupova knows is that gender is always a problem, not least because it is the center where there is no center. And so is the everyday cause of everyday death.
Steps on the red moss not knowing that it is blood
This collection is about such knowledge and knowing, an ongoing transition from not knowing to knowing to knowing too much to knowing too little to knowing the impossibility of knowing at all — a truly poetic philosophy. Not one of hope or even compassion, but a far rarer composition: capacity. Which is not considered as a substance but should be.
Life is ill-advised. This is funny, in the way of great tragedy, and the other way around. Things happen, never for a reason, rarely for a lesson. And yet we go on, tailoring our weak understandings to fit the brute contingencies of our fleshy circumstance, preferably with a moral set precociously b...