Review by Shannon Vare Christin “Sometimes I make a poem of my life” is the core mantra embodied in this poetry collection, by Barbara
Cats have their nine lives but I have my nine eyes. Two devour the shallows for a mate. Others wake when my thousands of
My brother never knew I had it, or for how long, or that I have it still, dull red, brick thick and heavy, on
My dog noses the bookshelf like she’s picking her next read. Eventually she fixates on one, flings it to the ground, paws it. I