Dorian Geisler's beguiling debut collection of poetry solves the
problems of audacity--with audacity. A darkly uncanny romp through the
lives of others, Geisler's fast-moving poetry and understated/maximalist
aesthetic manage to convey a burgeoning world filled with strangers
whose identities are playfully--sometimes diabolically--half-revealed.
Flowers of Anti-Martyrdom is Kafka mixed with Tarantino; it's
Invisible Cities--except instead of beautiful, imaginary cities, the
poet introduces us to disconcertingly realistic humans in all their
outlandish, casual perversity, exalted banality, and moral
questionability.
With Flowers, Geisler has written a collection that's open to as many
readings as there are readers--and yet that's always a genuine,
unambiguous delight.