"To be “deserted/ bereft,” to be “pointless positron without image,” this is to inhabit an emptiness, a remoteness that has an analog in the transient being’s dwelling in the liminal. The “barbarous index province,” this is the monolith that has no room for energy and life power other than its own. Those who refuse to kowtow are squeezed out. You’ll find us in the cuts, lawless and filthy and wild-eyed and in trance, letting our poems write themselves as they should."
Ted Rees ecstatically ventures into the third landscape in his 2nd DB post