Ryan Eckes is Brecht, probably, or better, deploying his poetry of crude thinking (plumpes denken) against the rancid confections of the present order. These poems tell the truth.

The poems in Wrong Heaven Again emerge from the deformation of language by landlords, administrators, and politicians who seek to dress up the daily hell into which we've been plunged. But rather than accept defeat, these poems play comically, often surreally, with the everyday cognitive dissonance of being asked to accept our inherently precarious conditions as inevitable. Ryan Eckes' fragmented, tough lyric mixes the quasi-bureaucratic jargon of corporate boardrooms with a latent desire for unalienated life, turning every last institutional euphemism in on itself to reveal the cry for freedom it labors to suppress. In these poems, collective life is violently configured and reconfigured, our bodies elastic as slapstick cartoons with each new economic disruption that comes down the pike, that promises "another gig, a gig, a gig, another gig." And yet underneath the exhaustion, there is the will for the world to be remade so that "tomorrow now exists / the arrow of time impales the right enemies, finally."