Afterword is a long poem in fragments, with some long lines of poetry folded over, as it were, onto the next line(s) of the page, as in Walt Whitman, Carl Sandburg and Allen Ginsberg. It is a long poem in fragments, but it might also be seen as a poem sequence: of memories and meditations, dreams and (for want of a better word) visions. It's increasingly invaded by images of destruction and desolation: of nature, of animals, of humankind; with those images prefigured by the opening passages. At the end of the text, the negative emphasis is "turned" upon and against itself into the language of transition. It's a poem that's concerned with limits and the possible surpassing or exceeding of limits.
"David Miller's writing - poetry, prose, recitatif on the cusp of prose and verse - is peculiar to himself. Its tone is singular: spiritual insight and wisdom grounded in conversational even throwaway sentences. At the same time, the writing belongs in a poetics associated with André du Bouchet, Paul Celan, Japanese masters and other writers - who occupy a space where traditional genres cannot reach - and is in implicit connection with them." -Anthony Rudolf
"David Miller writes: 'any writing that engages with the spiritual has to be dialogic provisional & open-ended in nature otherwise we're not talking about an engagement with the spiritual' - and Miller's new text does engage with the spiritual. Both learned and lyrical, it creates lyric utterance through a comprehension of the learning. David Miller both guides and follows - in the wisest European tradition. This is an overwhelming accomplishment." -Tom Lowenstein
