Reviewed by Faye Rapoport DesPres “Words mean more than the dictionary lets on,” (p. 27) Alison Stone writes in her ninth collection, Informed (New
The name of every beau, I remember. Aproned Mom kneading dough, I remember. High on song, we left with Cramps’ guitar picks, car shards
Picnic—We flirt and eat cake in the rain. Bad actors banter and run through fake rain. Classics’ women vanquished by weather. They faint in
Things you can’t control—love, weather, grace, time. My favorite cliché is race against time. Like an undertow, her phone sucks my teen daughter into