"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