IN THE MIDST OF HUNGER AND ABUNDANCE: STACY DORIS, 1962-2012

Something I wrote about Stacy Doris's Knot in 2005: "Their paradoxical faith to what’s never present makes Knot’s anarchic lyrics hum instead of merely singing:  apocryphal protocharacters and mock cantos chart out a future as well as a history for themselves and for us, even as they refuse those tenses for the terrorized current of complicity—and they ward away all but faultfully proliferating third persons.  If there’s a little less oooh baby, more kid as maculated concept in Ms. Doris’s latest lush essay in marriage, there’s also less privacy here than even before, more imploding within the wound.  What’s never present is always felt; what’s always passing is ever—achingly— contemporary, like the formless definitive cat’s disquieting purring, like this langue-twisting that tracks it so closely, bellicosely."

And now, and now is the world emptier and full of Stacy's words.