DEALEY PLAZA, Mark He

“In Dealey Plaza, Mark He performs a very dry stand-up routine about getting to the party just as it’s ended. In these poems, so-called ‘Western civilization’ and romantic love stand side by side as washed up enterprises, while diasporic identity is a mixed up language for decoding the truth of the situation.The evocative and often comical objects that populate these poems — pomegranates, ribbonfish, nature’s necropolis, the pelvic ear — serve as possible metaphors for inhabiting the present, but in the end, He shows us that it’s best to just keep moving even when we feel most trapped. These poems pair unmatched deadpan with sudden explosive lyricism: ‘corpus christi, a city / of lights / body of christ / in oil-slicked machinery.’”
— Laura Jaramillo

In this illuminated manuscript--poems and illustrations--poet and artist Mark He "leaves himself in a bathtub / to visit the world's fair of america" so that he might show us, too, the desolate and fucked fairgrounds of the West's cannibalistic afterparty. It's a Rossano Gospel for the Costco Era, this "unheimlich weather" of microplastics, "art" scrubbed of its social and cultural technologies, Fordist and post-Fordist systems running beyond capacity to replace our memories of the previous world, fertilizer, tanning beds, cigarette butts, "the Chinese virus," probiotics. As John Weiffenbach screams over a barreling freight train of a band on first track of the legendary 1982 Void/The Faith split: "I was raised to respect their ways / Now they've got me caught in their maze / So many questions come up to me / But which one of us is the one to see." In Dealey Plaza, He lets us all know: we all gotta see this shit at some point--lucky we have this book as flashlight and compass.

“Reading Mark He’s Dealey Plaza brings to mind a line from the late Lyn Hejinian: ‘The West is confined to infinity.’ In this witty book documenting He’s quotidian ruminations
and existential dread, the West is ever present — ‘a moving, writhing mass / of complexes / the process of the end, / but it will never end” despite it being “a land of the dead.’ There are trips to Costco, encounters with glib crowds of fellow artists, and accounts of the loosening of tradition in He’s diasporic culture — and all feel like smart, frank encounters with the doom inhered in the west. Dealey Plaza is very much
in the tradition of Steve Benson’s The Blue Books, and is exactly the sort of socially forceful yet lyrically astute poetry we need in this time of many knives.”
— Ted Rees

Mark He is an artist, poet, and researcher who lives in Queens, NY.

PREORDER. Books ship late March.

Dealey Plaza, Mark He. 87pp. 4x6, perfect bound. Covers letterpressed on Pistachio Colorplan cardstock, with embossed tipped-in covers. Interiors printed on Cougar Vellum 70# text. First edition of 350. Printed, assembled, and bound in “Kingston, New York,” the unceded and currently occupied lands of the Haudenosaunee, Mohican, Munsee Lenape, and Schaghitcoke tribes. Designed by The Aliens.