SOLIP SCHISM
A new work by Eric Tyler Benick shipping in late November.
Disclaimed proposition: The only way to understand this project is to read it.
PRAISE
Eric Tyler Benick is a poet whose peculiar taxonomies (“a privilege of tragedies,” “a gallop of errantry”) fumble the nuts and bolts of language. These poems are as charming as jargon and just as lawless. Entering SOLIP SCHISM is like stepping inside a math word problem, puzzling over humans and their relational aesthetics, gummy with time and sex, and then almost getting run over by a flatbed Toyota. Honk if that sounds like your idea of a good time.
—Emily Bark Brown
O Eric who “bayonetted the tsar/ until our hands were liquified”! Eric who, world-like, “wanes and rings/ its jaunty bells”! Yes, here there is something of the expansive, wandering Beat, who refuses the global situation of a commodified subjectivity. Perhaps “the lattices of communion" are indeed unspeakable—and yet Eric speaks, invoking doom (thank god): “A dozen Erics falling right now from various heights.” O Eric who spits up the “logocentric” demands of American empire!
—Eric Sneathen
In Eric Benick’s SOLIP SCHISM, I feel the pull of desire and its machinery, the lure of an elusive memory that churns and multiplies infinitely. A fascination for the slippery hold of language runs through these poems – selves appear and double-back, a primal scene becomes a “buttery angel,” and words move across exhilarating scenes of the past, each posing its own question about the nature of duration while also breathlessly moving ahead.
—Alexis Almeida
EDITION
100 copies printed by Future Days Press in “Kingston, NY”
ft: 60lb ‘Sun-light’ covers & [blue] painted logo.
Please note: all orders of SOLIP SCHISM with any in-stock item will ship together upon the former’s release.
A new work by Eric Tyler Benick shipping in late November.
Disclaimed proposition: The only way to understand this project is to read it.
PRAISE
Eric Tyler Benick is a poet whose peculiar taxonomies (“a privilege of tragedies,” “a gallop of errantry”) fumble the nuts and bolts of language. These poems are as charming as jargon and just as lawless. Entering SOLIP SCHISM is like stepping inside a math word problem, puzzling over humans and their relational aesthetics, gummy with time and sex, and then almost getting run over by a flatbed Toyota. Honk if that sounds like your idea of a good time.
—Emily Bark Brown
O Eric who “bayonetted the tsar/ until our hands were liquified”! Eric who, world-like, “wanes and rings/ its jaunty bells”! Yes, here there is something of the expansive, wandering Beat, who refuses the global situation of a commodified subjectivity. Perhaps “the lattices of communion" are indeed unspeakable—and yet Eric speaks, invoking doom (thank god): “A dozen Erics falling right now from various heights.” O Eric who spits up the “logocentric” demands of American empire!
—Eric Sneathen
In Eric Benick’s SOLIP SCHISM, I feel the pull of desire and its machinery, the lure of an elusive memory that churns and multiplies infinitely. A fascination for the slippery hold of language runs through these poems – selves appear and double-back, a primal scene becomes a “buttery angel,” and words move across exhilarating scenes of the past, each posing its own question about the nature of duration while also breathlessly moving ahead.
—Alexis Almeida
EDITION
100 copies printed by Future Days Press in “Kingston, NY”
ft: 60lb ‘Sun-light’ covers & [blue] painted logo.
Please note: all orders of SOLIP SCHISM with any in-stock item will ship together upon the former’s release.
A new work by Eric Tyler Benick shipping in late November.
Disclaimed proposition: The only way to understand this project is to read it.
PRAISE
Eric Tyler Benick is a poet whose peculiar taxonomies (“a privilege of tragedies,” “a gallop of errantry”) fumble the nuts and bolts of language. These poems are as charming as jargon and just as lawless. Entering SOLIP SCHISM is like stepping inside a math word problem, puzzling over humans and their relational aesthetics, gummy with time and sex, and then almost getting run over by a flatbed Toyota. Honk if that sounds like your idea of a good time.
—Emily Bark Brown
O Eric who “bayonetted the tsar/ until our hands were liquified”! Eric who, world-like, “wanes and rings/ its jaunty bells”! Yes, here there is something of the expansive, wandering Beat, who refuses the global situation of a commodified subjectivity. Perhaps “the lattices of communion" are indeed unspeakable—and yet Eric speaks, invoking doom (thank god): “A dozen Erics falling right now from various heights.” O Eric who spits up the “logocentric” demands of American empire!
—Eric Sneathen
In Eric Benick’s SOLIP SCHISM, I feel the pull of desire and its machinery, the lure of an elusive memory that churns and multiplies infinitely. A fascination for the slippery hold of language runs through these poems – selves appear and double-back, a primal scene becomes a “buttery angel,” and words move across exhilarating scenes of the past, each posing its own question about the nature of duration while also breathlessly moving ahead.
—Alexis Almeida
EDITION
100 copies printed by Future Days Press in “Kingston, NY”
ft: 60lb ‘Sun-light’ covers & [blue] painted logo.
Please note: all orders of SOLIP SCHISM with any in-stock item will ship together upon the former’s release.