A subtle, stunning work of lyric collage that expresses fluidity in all things: gender, sexuality, spirituality, and self.
$9.99 – $16.95
Vibratory Milieu weaves together eight years of writing to build an interconnecting web of accretionary meaning, using bits and pieces from a myriad of sources: current events, social media quips, film, literature, and theory. Hunter’s reading practice as art form merges with practices of attention as she culls lines from journals, poems written to music, poems written after meditation, poems written about dreams, and in response to poems by friends. What emerges from this field of language is a study of identity and its abstraction, formation, and analysis through interaction with texts of all kinds: poems, film, music, dream, and friendship.
Like the eponymous teen heroine of strategic reversals, Carrie White, Carrie Hunter wields awesome telekinetic powers. Collaged quotations and phrases hover on the page, spotlighting the objects of our desire, fury and incredulity. We find ourselves to be somewhere within “boundaryless metamorphosis’s apparent borders”, making “decision(s) within aporia”, a tensile and refractive echo chamber of mega consequence. With heightened awareness of the stimulations and fabrications at hand we become emboldened to bring down the house (capitalism, racial, gendered and ecological violence, etc.), an imbricated architecture, every part, every function accumulative and inextricably linked. In Vibratory Milieu, feminist provocation tackles the garish and overarching humiliating features of the omnipresent succubus that wields so many guises. “If true consciousness lies below the conscious level”, ease into the hypnotic genius of Carrie Hunter’s representation of encounter. This book is the best possible psychic release.
It’s hot. Shit, I want to read this book with a vibrator in hand. Not that this book is pornographic, or even particularly sexual in nature. But that the propulsion of this book feels, as the title invokes, vibratory… Lines feel charged and the semantic and narrative gaps between them make me feel in between them. It’s like the experience of being shaken, oscillated. Language feels out of control, out of context, out of body. I’m along for a ride.