"Like the decadent 19th C. poet of Huysman’s d’Abord (Au Rebours) but in a 21st century vital and female way Anne rolls out technology, fantasy, wit, nature, passion, and luscious fields of sorted, and unsorted vague (in a good way!) and rapturous information for our temporary perusal and then with her magic stylus she flicks it away."--Eileen Myles

"Daze is days (the daily everywhere one reads every Daily) and confusion (the Daily Bugle–or is it Bungle?–of constant shock). “And so the parable grows an extra set of limbs to keep track of the/ ‘foliating of experience.’” Cooperman observes that “Today nothing’s ever Euclidean.” Which is to say there is no point to pass through except the obvious: “I mean to say we die. He dies.” The poet addresses the Daze of the daily and how we are “confused with the multiplicity of our lives, or/how we are always.” His poems contain the philosophical and the plain-spoken, the scientific and the ripeness of 19th century diction, while at all times maintaining a healthy skepticism about language’s capacity to bring us here (or hear), where we have been wandering around lost for many years. Cooperman’s poems tell us that all may not be lost, there may in fact be a home, even if we never get to open its door."--John Yau

“The paradox of self-knowledge (how can the the perceiver—a subject—become the perceived—an object—without becoming something other than itself?) seems to mirror the paradox of time (what can we say of the present instant before it is already past?). The self, as well as time, is a ‘stranger to the direct gaze,’ as Martin Corless-Smith puts it in his mesmerizing new volume. Here, Romantic discourses on the soul are playfully and obliquely reconstituted via intertextual strategies worthy of Borges and Jabès. In a work crossed by alternate selves and alternate literary histories, Corless-Smith brilliantly evokes the mystery and melancholia of being in time.”—Andrew Joron