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These poems open to the desert as a practice of sensuality
The fury of the hacker/hag/captive/revenger is constantly boiling up on the edges of Berg’s compounds and highways
Heather Clark
an innovative hybrid essay-poem in style
Parkland Village These poems open to theJ. H. Prynne 'How could they know her realm for real is in shattered ruins, the pain of destruction and misery enslaved, and yet the bird messengers avouch disaster, the open gate like the mouth of terror, must it be as broken in hunger, her city in hold of rebels, populace at verge of frank starvation.'
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