Beskrivelse
Hung Q. Tu’s poems push the mind into a nest of steel rods all hitting the surface of an unknown shape at the same moment: political and quotidian, in language demotic and arcane they acutely render the beauty of scorn.
– Tom Raworth
Hung Q. Tu’s poetic modules are not «pieces» in the traditional sense–that is, thematically staged, subjectively actored and assumedly audienced, they are more like an intelligent arraying of graffiti that you’d run into in a modern city’s sub-throughway, perhaps a bit run-down, but with a shiny glass building across the street–that is, a city intra-imperialized in every way, its complicit fractals, its bio-bit patois scrawled all about. O reader, are you, in a post-massification frame of mind, but as yet, having nothing to massify-to-this-evening? Then hunker down with Tu’s latest gallery of searing wit and deadpan social observations. Here’s not (in the web sense), a «content rich» pixelscape of vain wonderies, but rather, the very packets of that packet-switching on the broadband of globalist ideology. Ping ping? Yup
– Rodrigo Toscano
