So I Began by Lisa Lubasch
96 pages / Cover art by Nicholas Motte
October 15, 2014
In these lean, expansive, wonderful poems, language is a long nervous filament feeling along thought—Beckett or Woolf gone maximally internal and grand. A narrative of interiority, already multiple, already doubled against itself, now and now casting forth, seeking a firm connection to the outside, swept back tidally, resisting. A trenchant diagnosis of an un-ease constitutional and productive and common to all of us.