978-0981596297 | 2014 | $14 | Buy Now
I’ve been in love with Betsy Fagin’s poetry for years. I’d hear her read, or see some of her poems here & there, & think on each occasions ‘Woah Besty is the BEST!’. Why isn’t there more of her writing to read, everywhere? It’s what I want, what I need to read, every time I turn around.’ Because for me this is the poetry that I not only admire but that I desperately believe in. Reading this book was like watching a talisman I’d been forever in need of materialize the gradual & granular concatenation of a contraband poetics where exodus alights on the limns of elision & with & contesting absolutely, privation’s wreckage, ie the present state of things. So these poems are composed & composing by way of intellect, urgency & music. I guess that’s why it feels like the talisman I’ve so long been in word, it’s like a truly public world in realization of itself, held out in the open, wounded & completely undeterred.