Reviewed by Basia Wilson In crafting a poem, any good poet knows to consider the myriad ways a reader may approach their work. Take,
Rain falls before the earth is formed here then everywhere the frogs cry, and the swamp swims closer through the reeds, water, and mud.
You go hear the trad, concertina’s breathy tune, a fiddle’s weeping, tin whistle like a fog-shrouded dream, pint of the Black to set your
1. This slug is first to go stuck under a plastic six-pack nosing the roots of lemon gem marigolds— with a snap of my