Here's an excerpt: H.L. Hix: Would it be in the spirit of your concluding observation in the “Translator’s Note” (that Berg “shows how every language may be foreign, even to its native speakers” [ix]) to [...]
"American poetry has become very anarchic. Critics and academics always complain: there is too much of it! How do we know what’s good? They invent hierarchies of “innovative” poetry so they don’t have to dive into the excess, but in so doing they’re not only compromising their academic credibility (how can you be an “expert” on American poetry and have never read any of these wild, small Internet journals or participated in any of its sadistic blog discussions?) but they’re also losing out on a poetry scene that is constantly mutating and getting infected and multiplying and changing."
"I’m more interested in art as violence, art as a haunting, as a spirit photograph, as what Aase Berg calls a “deformation zone” or what Joyelle has called “necropastoral.” (Joyelle’s actually right now downstairs playing some gloomy Cure song from the 80s for our daughters.) Art that is both Art and a contagion in the world. By not fully accounting for these figures, what I want them to be is this unstable matter. I want it all to be kind of shitty, you know."
"It’s definitely about a bilingual experience I guess. A lot of is based on translation of things I feel nostalgic about, which is usually 80’s Swedish punk music. There’s lots of quotations, and the characters that appear again like a carousel. There’s also stuff that’s based on Swedish translations of English texts or a lot of Mayakovski translations, the Gunnar Harding translation of Mayakovski, that I leave as sort of the English translations of the Swedish translations."
"Why did Joyelle and I start Action Books?… Ever since I went to graduate school I’ve known that nobody would publish the kind of writing I liked. Even Artaud… if Artaud wrote today City Lights wouldn’t publish it. If Celine wrote today New Directions wouldn’t publish it… Etc… Not much chance for me or my Shangri-las. No much chance for someone whose idea of heroism involved putting out cigarettes on his arms…"