As if I’ve come to some lovely new abode: my dazed eyes alit in awe; my capacity for alive lucidity developed in a mere minute to be purely moved in a dedicated anatomy Nufer avowed in a literary mode.
Lifeline Rule's a very nicely devised, original origami: tales of a delicate nature salute fine, wary humility before set executive-like power. A line tined, a rare body, finely divided, amuses even an irate cynic. Acute but agile, secure but arid, it iterates a syrupy, wide core. Definitively pawed open (amused or even elated), it is upon a total anatomy—careful, icily solid—it emanates a pure tone, like we get in a rosy, natural orifice. How it entices in a dive! Seduces in a move to lure! Cajoles as a siren! Is it inimical? I’d imagine no. But it is alive—solely here, now upon us. A sum of a total or a sole minus, it is, I muse, never a line more but a dire model of itemized, evocative names in a hopeful ode—sole lyric arisen above roles, afore-now unexamined or unelicited. I ruminate: to revere Nufer is a fit; it is even useful. One can open one’s eyes in awe, but one can even adore how agile, he wisely (re)defines animaly palaver in a lexicon... or is it a paradox? One to be polared? A-hah! I go for it. One fan of, I hope, many to come.
Doug Nufer is the author of the novels Negativeland (Autonomedia, 2004), Never Again (Black Square, 2004), On the Roast (Chiasmus, 2004), The Mudflat Man/ The River Boys (soultheft records, 2006), and By Kelman Out of Pessoa (Les Figues, 2011). His books of poetry include We Were Werewolves (Make Now, 2008), The Dammed (ubu.com, 2011), and Lounge Acts (Insert Blanc, 2013).