Vacationland by Dean Young   The volta: the turn, the chance, the face, the once-upon a time, the surprise of the moment in which what you thought you knew becomes something you thought you didn’t know. Dean Young’s poems are often masked by a surprisingly delicate resistance to stasis, marked by shifts into reverse gear to turn away from the bull’s eye. The shark of poetry or the inanimate object? Is this set of turns that fold in onto themselves ultimately a way of not moving at all, or of constantly re-locating the beginning point? “Vacationland” opens with the vagueness of a dreamed “somewhere else” and deposits the newly awakened speaker there. We—the readers—have already become the tourists in a deictic landscape created by…