With the recent deaths of his parents nine months apart and a lifelong egotistical dissatisfaction with personal extinction Gordon Massman throws everything he has at *DEATH*, the title of this characteristically unconventional performance. Shot with crisp actual deathbed snapshots stretches a long chanting incantatory expurgation which is the single multi-sectioned poem of this book. Death is never perturbed by artists and it is not perturbed here by this shot pea of a poem, but Massman believes there's worth in the shooting and so he shoots with his uniquely nonconforming weapons. Who approaches this book looking for revenge won't taste it here but he might find a kindred warrior with whom to join forces, and perhaps with whom more nobly to die.