Destruction in the Afternoon is a seething, narcissistic psychological journey through a human desert of torpor, anguish, mourning, despair, an aridity of the soul. The long first section, “Hands in the Grave,” is a particularly powerful delineation of death and the void, the “monster” of the body and the “coffin of time.” “We hear our voices / like a feeble manifestation of the end,” Vizcaino writes, hardly feeble himself in his compelling poetry, and in translator Alexis Levitin’s masterful hands, the translation likewise is anything but weak, frail or listless. Rather, Destruction in the Afternoon sustains a kind of dark ecstasy of negativity, the poet’s resistance to his, and our, nightmares, as the poems bloom into gorgeous verbal “flowers among the carrion.”
— Adam J. Sorkin
Destruction in the Afternoon is a seething, narcissistic psychological journey through a human desert of torpor, anguish, mourning, despair, an aridity of the soul. The long first section, “Hands in the Grave,” is a particularly powerful delineation of death and the void, the “monster” of the body and the “coffin of time.” “We hear our voices / like a feeble manifestation of the end,” Vizcaino writes, hardly feeble himself in his compelling poetry, and in translator Alexis Levitin’s masterful hands, the translation likewise is anything but weak, frail or listless. Rather, Destruction in the Afternoon sustains a kind of dark ecstasy of negativity, the poet’s resistance to his, and our, nightmares, as the poems bloom into gorgeous verbal “flowers among the carrion.”
— Adam J. Sorkin