Noah's review from Rain Taxi

[Noah Eli Gordon reviewed the three-pronged chapbook from Dos Press. Here's what he said about my part:]

Johannes Göransson’s always delightful, often demented neo-Dadaist verse bores like botfly larvae into the back of American poetry, eating of it, but always remaining its own entity—a parasite fully aware that it is feeding on an imperialist host, and that in doing so its violent act becomes one of liberation. These short poems are brimming with enough eviscerated images, odd discharges, cancerous fossils, and disembodied limbs that they’re bound to create new categories of fetish. Several of them—gasp!—aren’t even in English. In reading Göransson, one realizes that it is possible to beat someone to death with the world’s most beautiful painting, and wonders what this might mean for the future of art. For your own sake, you’d better believe him when he writes, “the twitch-sick/ shoot-your-enemy experience/ becomes insect-crowded/ in the photographic color/ further-away for the scar-up/ close-up, make-up trace/ of the swarm medium”.